


An Illusion of Sorts

by lordvoldemortsnipple



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur, PINING!!!, Pining, Slow Burn, bi arthur, demisexual merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 133,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldemortsnipple/pseuds/lordvoldemortsnipple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Morgana sneaks a magic show into Arthur’s club is the same night Arthur meets Merlin. Arthur knows not everyone shares his opinion on how tasteless magic tricks are, but he still can’t understand why Merlin is so defensive of this Dragoon the Great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's What Arthur Pendragon Hates

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted a modern au where Merlin is a magician, and figured there was no better way to do it than bring in Dragoon and have Arthur be a clueless idiot about it. Here's the incredibly long result!

As far as Arthur is concerned, it started like this: Morgana leaning on the polished counter of the bar with both hands on it, fingers spread out in ownership as she puts her weight on it to press in on Arthur’s space. He merely looked at her, not stepping back, because he _did_ own the space, after all. And in any case, there was the counter between them.

“Arthur, I’ve made a few changes on the performers’ schedule next week,” she said, raising her chin, daring him to question her actions, “I found quite the talent on the street, and I rather thought that providing a stage would be better than just handing some loose change.”

“The difference being that I’m the one paying this talent now,” Arthur replied, pulling out a glass for himself. He’s not much of a bartender, but even he knows how to open a bottle and pour the contents on a glass, and lately he’s been seeing videos on Youtube on how to mix drinks. He likes to know how every part of his business works, and he doubts it’s the kind of skill he’ll regret learning.

“My thoughts exactly,” his sister said, grabbing his glass and pulling it out of his reach, taking a sip. “I’ll email you the new schedule as soon as I have it all figured out.”

Arthur glared at the drink in her hand, before taking out another glass for himself.  “Are they good?”

“Like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

Arthur doubted that, but he trusts Morgana’s eye for talent, so he didn’t think to question her further. He didn’t even check the changes she made, not apart from glancing at the names, and as all she did was move a few shows to fit some band on the stage, he wasn’t very concerned. He did hire her for a reason.

A week later, Arthur wishes he had paid more attention to the issue at hand, because the old man coming up on stage doesn’t quite look what he was expecting. Arthur’s sitting on the far back of the bar, and the light of his tablet is set on low to not disturb the clients close by as he opens the email with the new schedule, scrolling down the list to today’s date.

_Thursday, 10 pm – Dragoon_

Arthur frowns, he had assumed Morgana had made a typo, and hired some sort of band or act named Dragon, but glancing up for a moment as the old man, with long white beard and hair, and a surprisingly clear voice that announces himself as _Dragoon the Great,_ before stepping away from the microphone, Arthur’s proven wrong. Closing his tablet, he keeps his attention on stage, his frown growing as he notices the old man’s sharp suit, and the tall top hat on his head. What kind of nonsense did Morgana bring into his club?

And to his horror, the man pulls out the hat from his head, twirling it in his hands with a quick movement, and then showing the audience its inside. He holds it by the brim with one hand, the other spread above, fingers flexing and opening quickly. He stills for a moment, to wink at the audience, and then closes his eyes, his hand going inside the hat, and then he pulls out a white rabbit from it, by the skin behind its neck, and the fluffy thing looks calmly at the audience, ears twitching up. The hat goes back to Dragoon’s head, and he holds the rabbit in his arms, petting its head.

Arthur stands up quickly, the noise his chair makes as it is forced back barely noticeable among the applause around him, and he doesn’t look to see Dragoon bowing as Arthur scans the perimeter, looking for his sister. She’s closer to the stage, by the counter of the bar again, a glass of wine in her hand and a very smug look on her face. Arthur hates it instantly.

“Morgana,” he hisses her name slowly once he reaches her, “what is this?”

“This is the talent I’ve found on the streets, brother dearest,” Morgana barely affords him a glance, “I told you all about him a while ago didn’t I?”

The audience gasps as Dragoon seemingly pulls a cane from out of nowhere, and Arthur grits his teeth.

“You told me you found a talent, not an old man with cheap tricks!” he forces his voice to stay low, but his disgust is still there.

“An old man with cheap tricks?” she leans away, eyebrows high as she tilts her head to look down on him, as if she actually could do such a thing, she’s hardly tall enough. “Arthur, he’s nothing of the sort. In any case, everyone loves him.”

And as if just to prove her point, the audience claps enthusiastically as Dragoon hovers on the stage. Arthur hates how real it looks, he hates the way they’re all being fooled, and he particularly hates Morgana, but that part is never new.

“He’s doing magic tricks,” Arthur turned away from the stage, standing in front of her, “he pulled a rabbit out of a hat, for God’s sake!”

“It’s a show like any other—“

“This is my establishment, Morgana, you know how I feel about—“

“I know what Uther feels on the issue,” Morgana replies quickly, stepping closer, their tones still low enough not to disturb the people around them, only just barely, “but as you said, Excalibur is your club, not his.”

And Arthur truly, truly hates her. Excalibur had been his own project from the very beginning, and Arthur had poured his very soul into it even when he had been working at his father’s theatre, Camelot, making the money he needed to get started on his own.  Excalibur club was his work, and now it had a _magician_ on its stage, when an actual performance should be enjoyed.

“I’m not paying him,” Arthur says, “this comes out of your salary.”

“Arthur—“

“You know how I feel on this issue, Morgana. You’re lucky I’m not dragging him out of the stage right now.”

“Why would you? Your clients are loving him.” Morgana puts a hand on his arm, “His show lasts half an hour, and you have never seen a magic show, have you? Sit around and enjoy while it lasts, will you?”

He steps out of her reach, “I’m keeping an eye on this so I can intervene at the slightest complaint.”

“Whatever you tell yourself, brother,” Morgana takes another sip, looking smug once more, and Arthur has very little patience for it, so he moves down the counter, to be further away from her, and orders a drink from Elyan.

He watches his friend prepare the drink, the fluid movements of his hands, trying to keep it in memory to try it on his own later on, and against his will, his eyes are instead dragged towards the stage, widening as Dragoon makes the light from the candles on the client’s tables rise from it and float around the stage. The flames shifts as they travel, smoke rising above them, and Arthur hates that Morgana is right – he never quite saw anything like it.

He should fire her.

Instead he drinks in silence, glaring at the glass as Elyan applauds along with the clients at the next trick Dragoon makes, and Arthur does his best not to feel betrayed. The old man isn’t flashy in his performance, as Arthur always expected magicians to be, never uttering a word, and closing his eyes every time he does a trick.

Soon enough the show ends, with Dragoon coming to the microphone once more and thanking everyone for their time. He bows awkwardly to the applause, and there’s something off about him, the way he moves, as if Dragoon is younger than he appears. Arthur takes his eyes away from him, presuming it’s just another trick Dragoon brings to the table, and his attention goes back to the glass on the counter once the magician left the stage.

He swirls the drink for a moment, watching the ice cubes move against the glass, and then downs the whole thing at once. He’s asking Elyan for another drink, something lighter, because it doesn’t do to drink too much at work, when someone sits down on the bench next to his.

“Same for  me, please.”

Arthur turns to look at the man sitting next to him, and lets his eyes roam for a moment. Long and thin, lanky, really, pale skin and with a mop of dark hair, ridiculous ears barely covered by it, and Arthur is just about to dismiss him when the man turns his head to look back at him, with striking blue eyes, and cheekbones, and full lips stretch into a smile. He’s not handsome, especially by conventional means, but there’s something about him that Arthur can’t quite put his finger on.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, looking quite pleased about it himself, glancing down a moment to fix his white shirt, before his attentive look returns to Arthur.

“Not at all,” Arthur replies at once, and ignoring the way Elyan shakes his head at him, as he’s handed his drink. He’s not going to lie to please a stranger, and it’s certainly not his fault the other asked.

The man frowns a bit, his smile fading. “Why not?”

“Magic tricks are ridiculous,” Arthur says, looking at him, waving a hand in the air in dismissal, “I have nothing personal against the… performer, but I’d rather have seen some real art on the stage.”

He raises his eyebrows as the man’s cheeks colour rather rosy, the man looking far more offended than he should be by the comment. “Real art?”

“Tonight we were supposed to enjoy a jazz band performing live. Instead… “

“Nobody seemed to be put out,” the man replies sharply, glaring at him. “Everyone else seemed to enjoy the show.”

“I wouldn’t call it a show,” Arthur says.

“And I wouldn’t call you bright,” the man replies, an elbow on the counter as he leans in, his tone a bit lower, but still as sharp.

Arthur lets out a laugh, affronted. “Then I’d call you tasteless, for enjoying that kind of nonsense. He won’t perform here again, if I have any say.”

“And who do you think you are? The art police?”

“No, I’m the club owner, Arthur Pendragon.”

He takes a sip of his drink, rather pleased with the dumb look on the man’s face, who leans back, hand moving on the counter to grab his own drink. Arthur doesn’t understand why this man takes so personally Arthur’s disdain for Dragoon and his performance, and he might be oddly attractive, but Arthur doesn’t back down. He’s strangely eager when the man opens his mouth to finally reply to that, when they’re interrupted.

“Arthur! And Merlin,” Morgana reaches them, standing so she’s right next to them both, one hand on Arthur’s back, the other on the man’s—Merlin’s shoulder. “You two have met, what a pity. I was looking forward to introducing you two.”

Merlin gets up, and holds a smile for her, like the kind Arthur got only when he first saw him. “Thanks for inviting me here, Morgana.”

“Nonsense,” she says, moving to rest her hand on his arm, “I’m very glad I did, it was a pleasure.”

Arthur sighs, very uninterested in the conversation now, not really keen on watching his sister flirt. “You invited him?”

“Of course I did, Arthur, I told you so.” She turns to Merlin before Arthur can deny that, smiling back at him. “I hope my brother here wasn’t terribly rude to you, he can be quite something.”

“He’s a prat.” Merlin says, not even sparing him a glance.

Morgana laughs, delighted, and starts taking him away. “It doesn’t take long to see that, does it?”

Arthur firmly ignores them as they leave, turning to his drink again, and wishing he wasn’t so damn responsible so he could just order something strong. He tries to distract himself, looking at the stage where a band is setting their things up, and suddenly he feels pressure on the back of his neck, and turns to see Morgana looking at him, from the table she’s sitting in with Merlin, a glint in her eyes that has Arthur hoping that whatever she’s plotting this time won’t bother him too much.

His eyes land on Merlin for a moment, who looks annoyed and confused. It’s not an odd reaction when in Morgana’s presence, and Arthur pulls away from the sight, turning to Elyan again. He doesn’t see Merlin again that night and he notices that more than he probably should.

Everything that happens in his life after that night, is a clear consequence of Morgana’s actions.

 

 

The problem with Dragoon is far from over. Several clients ask the staff, and Arthur himself when the magician will return, disappointed that his name isn’t listed on next week’s performers. Arthur ignores when it’s his sister that brings that information, but George always relates the questions people ask as he serves them, and Elyan comments about the show almost a week later, and Percival says people look at the schedule by the door and then ask him if Dragoon will return, and Leon, Leon who should be the most loyal of them all, Leon suggests bringing him back.

And Arthur feels betrayed by them all enough, blames his sister for everything, but the worst part is when Mr. Kilgharrah one evening calls Arthur to his table, and asks him if he got a contract with the magician while he could.

“The warlock should be working here, young Pendragon,” the elder man says, grabbing his coffee cup, ignoring the smoke rising from it and drinking it all down at once. Arthur doesn’t wince because he’s used to seeing Mr. Kilgharrah swallowing down things that should burn down the throat as if he was drinking a cool beer in the heat of the summer. “There’s something special about him, and you would do well to bring it to Excalibur.”

And Arthur doesn’t hate Kilgharrah because he has a soft spot for the old man who, after retiring from Camelot Theatre, became the first investor and client of Excalibur, providing Arthur with everything he learnt in the long years he worked for his father. He has the habit to be too vague for Arthur’s taste, and the smell of cigars clings to him at all times, but he has a keen eye for talent, and Arthur has learnt that it’s something to not be ignored.

“You could be entering a golden age, bringing prosper to the business,” he continues, giving Arthur a pointed look, “must you live in your father’s shadow still?”

Arthur looks away. Excalibur might be the fruit of his labour, and he might have done it all on his own, but his last name still carries a weight that he can’t shake off. He knows that there are booking he manages because the artists hope for a chance to catch his father’s eye instead, and many of the contacts he has came from his father.

And yet, Excalibur is nothing like Camelot. His father has taught Arthur a lot, and he takes pride in him, but Arthur knows he’s not the same man as him. Uther would never open his stage for bands or acts that have no name yet, and it’s rare that he strays from the classics, both in music and theatre, rarely tolerating jazz, much less any other kind of performance. Camelot is set within white, prestige walls and velvet chairs, and Excalibur, at least to Arthur, is a warmer place to be, with wooden floorings, the red walls, a sleek silver colour on the counter of the bar, the round tables spread across the room, ending a few meters before the stage, so there’s a space to dance if the performance allows it. But his father’s lessons stick with him, and although Arthur knows things don’t have to be classical to be good, it doesn’t mean magic tricks fit into it.

The stage is made for the performing arts, and magicians are no artists.

Mr. Kilgharrah flickers a finger over the flame of the candle set on his table, and Arthur doesn’t get how he can have his finger so close to the fire without burning. His own fingers curl into his palms just by watching him, and then he relaxes his hands, limp by his sides, once Mr. Kilgharrah looks at him knowingly.

“.. I’ll think about it,” Arthur concedes at last.

 

 

It takes two more days for him to call Morgana, in the afternoon, so he doesn’t have to see her smug look when he finally relents. “You can bring him back,” he says as soon as she picks up.

“Bring who?” she asks, her voice dripping with fake innocence, “and hello to you too, brother, how are you doing?”

“You know who.”

“The Globins? I thought you said the band wanted too much for their performance.”

“They did and I don’t want them either way,” Arthur rubs a hand over his forehead, “I’m still certain it was them who clogged the toilets.”

“And ruined the walls of the dressing room, I’m sure,” she agreed. “Then who is it?”

“…The magician,” Arthur looks firmly at the wall of his office as he speaks, doing his best not to imagine his sister’s smirk.

“Really now? Arthur, had a change of heart?”

“Monday night, half an hour, and he can’t repeat tricks. Once he’s out of tricks, he’s out of a job,” Arthur says, ignoring her reply, “those are my conditions.”

“I’ll talk with him and let you know what we can get,” she says, sounding far too pleased for Arthur’s taste.

“And not a word to father,” Arthur says firmly, actually pointing a finger forward, and stopping once he realizes it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Morgana replies, humming. “I’ll call you back, Arthur.”

He grunts as a reply and hangs up, dropping the phone on his desk, hoping he has made the right decision.


	2. There and Back Again

Chapter 2 -- There and Back Again

 

This time, Dragoon got some music playing in the background, as opens his hands, revealing a rose. Arthur sighs, looking away from the show for a moment, to see over the clients. Unfortunately, the place is full, people are talking excitedly to each other as they look to the stage, and there are people who aren’t familiar at all. Dragoon, at least, brought on a table of five or six people, all who are rudely loud in their clapping. Morgana obvious loves them, by how often she goes by that table.

Leon is sitting by the counter of the bar, chatting with Elyan as the bartender works, and Arthur joins his side, soon forgetting the group and the person on stage as they discuss work. Leon shows him the last expenses reports, and they might be doing well, but the numbers aren’t great. They need to start charging more, or find a way to bring in more people if they want to get ahead of any downflow.

They’re interrupted soon as they decide where to make cuts by a familiar voice, ordering several drinks. “The round is on me,” Merlin explains to Elyan with a smile, fixing the collar of his shirt.

Arthur looks at him, and raises an eyebrow. “You again.”

Merlin turns to him. “Ah, you.”

“I assumed you weren’t coming back.”

“Well,” Merlin says, shifting his weight a bit, “the show is back on, isn’t it?”

Arthur glances to the stage, but Dragoon isn’t there anymore, and a look down at his clock shows him that the performance ended around ten minutes ago. His eyes go to Merlin again. “Right, you’re very fond of magic tricks, aren’t you, _Mer_ lin?”

Merlin actually chuckles as that, and there are dimples on his cheeks as he does so. “You could say that.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say for a moment, looking at him, and having expected a more defensive answer, but before he figures it out, Elyan puts out seven drinks in front of him. “There you go, mate.”

Merlin looks lost for a moment as he tries to grab everything with only two hands, a glass slipping from his hold back to the counter. Arthur sighs, getting up and grabbing four of the drinks between his hands. “Come on, before you break one of my glasses.”

Merlin grabs the other three carefully, looking at him in surprise. “Bringing drinks to the table? Isn’t that a bit above the art police?”

“Shut up and lead the way, before I change my mind.”

Merlin’s eyes like half-moons as he smiles this time, and Arthur is at loss of words again as he follows him to the tables, but luckily he’s not required to make conversation on the way until they reach the table, where Morgana is sitting down. He’s only surprised for a moment, before remembering that Merlin is her friend.

“You shouldn’t be bothering the clients, Morgana,” he says, his eyes on her as he and Merlin put down the drinks. On Morgana’s right, Guinevere gives him a smile, and he goes in to kiss her cheek, a hand on the back of her chair, “Guinevere, it’s been a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” she replies. “I’m glad I came tonight, though, the show was amazing!”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he replies smoothly, and glances around the table. He doesn’t recognise anyone else, but he hardly hangs out with Morgana’s friends, usually she and Guinevere just fit in with Arthur’s. Merlin pulls two chairs over, and sits in one of them, leaving one between him and Morgana free.

“Everyone,” Morgana says, tugging on Arthur’s arm, “this is my brother, Arthur. Arthur, this is Lance, Gwaine, Will and Freya.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Arthur says, offering them a polite smile.

The reactions are mixed. Guinevere gives him a kind smile, and Lance does the same, although a bit strained as he looks at the hand Arthur still has on Guinevere’s chair, but the rest of the table look at him as if he’s told them all to go rot in hell. Will and Gwaine actually look like they want to wish the same back at him.

“So you’re him, uh?” Will says, looking him up and down, and obviously not liking the result.

“That explains a lot,” Gwaine says, a smirk breaking into his face as he turns to Merlin, who looks somewhat uncomfortable.

Arthur is confused to say the least and looks at Morgana. “What did you tell them about me, Morgana?”

“Only the truth,” she replies as pats the chair Merlin had pulled over for him. Arthur stands wrong footed for a moment, as he’s not really keen on joining a group that clearly dislikes him.

Merlin motions him to sit down as well, as he asks “So, did you enjoy the show?”

All eyes are on him as Arthur sits down.  “I didn’t really see it,” he replies, pulling the chair forward, stopping once his knee bumps into Merlin’s leg.

“Why bring it back, then?” Merlin asks, “you told me if it were up to you…”

“Everyone wanted the show back,” Morgana leans in, sounding very pleased, “Arthur just took a while to see reason.”

“It was brilliant, Arthur,” Guinevere says with a smile, which only grows as she turn to Merlin, “that thing with the flowers was beautiful!”

Merlin grins back at her, “My favourite was the one with the mirror.”

“I bet it was,” Gwaine lets out, much more cheerful now, and the table laughs, adding in what they enjoyed most. Arthur stays quiet, watching them all. He honestly had been busy during the performance so now he’s lost in the conversation. He catches Morgana looking at him and raises his eyebrows, prompting her to speak her mind. Not that she would do anything other than that.

“Next time watch the show,” she says, patting his knee, “then you won’t miss out.”

“Some of us were working, Morgana,” Arthur replies.

“And it just happened to be during the one magic performance we have?” Morgana raises an eyebrow.

“You really don’t like magic, do you?” Merlin asks from his other side. The table quiets down a bit at that, and Arthur hates to be ambushed.

“I don’t,” he says, “it’s just tricks and illusions, and fooling people.”

“Arthur, honestly,” Morgana sighs, shaking her head.

“But it’s wonderful,” Guinevere says, “makes the world seem…. magical.”

Merlin ducks his head, smiling again as Will nudges him a little, and Lancelot and Gwaine share a look. Arthur doesn’t really understand the reactions, but he bets it has to do with how much of magic tricks fan Merlin seems to be.

“Look,” he says, trying to appease them a bit, “I’m not saying that all magic tricks should be abolished, just that the stage wasn’t made for them.”

“Why not?” Merlin tilts his head a little, his gaze steady on Arthur, as if he’s something that has to be figured out. Arthur doesn’t mind for the simple fact he has nothing that needs to put on display that isn’t already there.

What Arthur finds odd is the question. “Why not? Because the stage was made for art. To show art and make people feel and understand something, either a moral or an emotion.”

“So you feel nothing when you see a magic show?”

“I feel wronged.”

“That’s because you’ve never actually been to a magic show,” Morgana steps in, taking a sip of her drink, “you’ve never seen how it is like.”

“Should have watched the show tonight if he really wanted,” Will says, from Merlin’s left.

“I was working,” Arthur says, frowning, and then realizes he doesn’t have to get defensive at all. “And I wasn’t interested.”

The table grows silent, and Morgana glares at him. Arthur sits up straighter, preparing to strike back at whatever she has to say, but it’s Gwaine who replies.

“Yeah, mate, I don’t know about you, but if I was running this place, I’d like to know what goes on my stage.”

Arthur turns to him, his mouth falling open for a moment, and he really, really dislikes the way Gwaine smirks at him. “That is why I hired Morgana. I trust her to do her job right.”

“And that is why I got us Dragoon,” Morgana leans forward, resting a hand on the table.

“Sure,” Arthur replies, waving a hand, “anyway, our customers want Dragoon on the stage, so that’s what going to happen.”

“You’ll change your mind,” Lance says, with a smile directed at him and then at Merlin, “you’ll see.”

Arthur glances around the table. Will is still glaring at him, and Freya hasn’t said a word yet, and it isn’t hard to notice that the conversation isn’t rolling smoothly, and that he’s the cause of it. So he just nods, and gets up.

“We’ll see,” he replies at last, and looks around, “it was nice knowing you, but I have to get back to work.”

“Don’t be such a bore, Arthur,” Morgana sighs, bringing her drink to her lips.

“You shouldn’t drink in your place of employment,” he replies, snatching the drink from her, and turns to the others, stretching up so his sister can’t reach the stolen item. “Goodnight to you all. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Raising the glass in reply to their goodbyes, Arthur chuckles lightly as he evades Morgana’s hand, before he leaves the group, back to the bar to Leon’s side.

“Where did you get that drink?” Leon asks as Arthur sits down.

“Morgana,” he replies, “caught her drinking at work.”

Leon chuckles, shaking his head slowly, “Arthur, she’s not working.”

“She was still annoying,” Arthur takes a sip of the drink, and makes a face. Too sweet. Leon grabs the drink once he puts it down on the counter, and slides some sheets of papers to him.

“Take a look at those numbers while I give this back,” Leon pats his shoulder with his free hand as he moves away.

“You’re supposed to be _my_ friend, Leon,” Arthur says, grabbing the papers.

“And you’re not supposed to steal from paying customers,” Leon replies, and then he’s far away enough that Arthur would have to raise his voice to talk back, so he doesn’t.

He does look over his shoulder to the table where Leon is headed to, shaking his head lightly at his friend’s betrayal, before his eyes catch on Merlin’s, who’s looking back at him, raising an eyebrow once they make contact. Arthur tilts his head a little to point at Leon and mouths ‘ _whipped_ ’, not sure why he’s indulging Merlin at all as he watches him turn to Leon and Morgana, before looking back at Arthur again with a smile. Arthur shakes his head, and turns back to his papers, a smile tugging on his lips.

 

“This place is named Excalubir,” Merlin says, “and you’re Arthur Pendragon. Your sister is Morgana. Very… Arthurian.”

“Is this a list of small facts you know about me or are you trying to justify why you’re back, _Mer_ lin?”

It’s Wednesday evening, and Arthur’s still surprised that Merlin is in the club at all again, especially that he just sat down at a table with him, as if it was something they _did_. Dragoon isn’t performing tonight, and Arthur had been under the impression that Merlin only came around for that.

Merlin shakes his head, smiling as he looks down at his tea, hands curled around the cup as if the temperature at Excalibur wasn’t pleasant enough. “Just wondering. I mean, obviously your father must have a taste for the Arthurian legends, naming his kids as he did, but you went along with the theme for the club.”

“Runs in the family,” Arthur replies, “my father is named Uther, after all. My grandfather saw an opportunity to use our last name, and his bad sense of humour has affected all generations after. Not that you’re one to talk about, _Mer_ lin,” he presses on the name, leaning a bit over the table, eyes on the other so he can’t miss his point.

Merlin gives him an open mouthed smile, letting out a small chuckle, in a breath, and as the smile twists to the side he turns his face a bit. His eyes always crinkle. “Mum says the day I was born the world turned magical.”

“I assume your last name isn’t Potter then, or you’d be a Harry.”

“Emmerson.”

“Not many wizards with that last name,” Arthur concedes, grabbing his coffee cup to take a sip.

“Just the one,” Merlin says cheekily, still smiling, and Arthur actually puffs out an amused breath, before covering it up by bringing his drink to his mouth. “I have a question, though.”

“Of course you do, go on, then,” Arthur says, sounding more exasperated than he really is. He’s not sure if Merlin can see it, but the glint in his eyes tell him he’s not fooled. He drinks up his coffee, ignoring it.

“Why not name the place The Round Table?”

“This isn’t a pub,” Arthur scoffs, putting down his cup. “Excalibur sounds more exclusive. Besides, I can be subtler than that.”

Merlin looks at him in confusion, and Arthur knocks on the wooden table between them. Merlin looks down at the gesture, then at the table, eyes bright as he lifts them to look around the place.

“All the tables are round.”

“Well done, Merlin, good to see you can state the obvious.”

“You’re such a prat,” Merlin says, his tone wavering a little with laghter as he smiles, “and such a _nerd_.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur looks at him, leaning back on his seat, hands flat on the table. “I am not. You can’t talk to me like that.”

“Of course, I can’t go around insulting _royalty_. Off to the stocks with me then, sire?” Merlin replies, grinning, and he tilts his head slightly so he’s looking up at Arthur from under his long lashes. “Or do you have some dungeons downstairs?”

“I might as well have some made just for you,” Arthur replies, his face heating up for no reason. “Or just have you banished from the club, and save the money.”

“A wise decision, my lord,” Merlin hums, and Arthur wants to hit him in the head.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says instead. He bites down a smile of his own as he sees Merlin’s, turning his face away to the stage, where a band is setting up for their show. He glances back at Merlin. “What are you doing here today?”

“Figured I should see what kinds of shows you do enjoy,” Merlin says, lifting his cup with both hands, smiling playfully, “in any case, why not sit around and do nothing after a long day of work?”

“Figures you’d be lazy as well as uncultured.”

“Hey, I work a lot” Merlin says, a small frown growing on his face.

“Really? Doing what, Merlin, card tricks?”

“Actually, I run an herb store with my uncle,” he explains, looking at Arthur, “The Physician, it’s two streets from here.” He motions with his hand the general direction.

“And I’m sure you’re very busy selling plants,” Arthur says, “very exhausting work indeed.”

“You're one to talk, sitting around and drinking all day while complaining about performances.”

“I'll have you know Merlin, that there is a lot more to it than that. You only see me after my work hours.”

“As you do me,” Merlin looks at him, “so how can you say I don't work?”

“Maybe one day I'll visit your little shop, then, to see what keeps you so busy.”

“I look forward to that.”

The band starts playing, and Merlin turns his attention to the stage. They both stay silent as they listen, at first, and Arthur keeps glancing away from the stage to Merlin, trying to see what he thinks of it.

“They're good,” merlin murmurs, leaning in so Arthur can hear him without disturbing the rest of the audience, and Arthur almost feels his breath on his cheek.

“They auditioned a month ago,” Arthur replies in a low tone, keen to educate Merlin, somehow feeling responsible to make him see what art is really about. “Told them they had a good sound, but they needed a bass player. When they returned with one, I gave them the gig. Their first performance was last week.”

“Their first performance? I thought this place was exclusive.”

“I'm not one to dismiss talent just because they never had a booking before,” Arthur waves out a hand in dismissal, and “everyone has to start somewhere.”

Merlin looks at with an odd expression for a moment, before he says “but not magicians.”

Arthur sighs, not really keen to have them back at that topic, “look, there are places for everything. I also don't have mimes or clowns on the stage. I'm not saying people can't enjoy watching them, but it happens on their own space, which clearly isn't here.”

“Why not?” Merlin takes a sip of his tea.

“Because that's how things work, Merlin.”

Merlin is quiet as he put down his cup, and looks at him again. “You own Excalibur. I think you’re the one who has to decide how things work here.”

Arthur looks at him in surprise, mouth opening to reply, but Merlin stops looking itendely at him to turn to the stage again, and Arthur quiets down his response. He didn't really know what to say anyway.


	3. Concerning Magicians

Arthur isn't that surprised when Thursday Merlin sits beside him at a corner table. Friday has him glance around as Merlin is late, berating himself for it, but still relaxing a bit once the other arrives. Saturday he tells himself there's nothing wrong with sitting at a table instead of his usual place at the bar, and it has nothing to do with Elyan’s looks and smirks as Merlin sits beside him. Sunday Merlin comes earlier, and it's Arthur who goes join him at his table this time.

And Monday night, Merlin is nowhere in sight.

One of his friends is sitting at a table on his own, looking down on his phone, his long hair covering part of his face. Arthur isn't sure of his name anymore, having heard it just the once -- Gavin? Or was it Blaine? -- so he's not going there so soon. His  presence should mean Merlin is close by, but then again, he might just enjoy magic shows on his own too.

Arthur frowns as Dragoon gets on stage with Merlin still not in the audience. The idiot defends the show far too much to miss it out and yet, the one time a week Arthur allows it to happen he's gone. And not that they had really agreed to do anything, but Arthur has spent the evenings of his entire week explaining to Merlin the influences and meanings of the performances they watched, and he’s been looking forward to have Merlin do the same for him regarding the magic show.

He glances down at the hours, on his phone, the screen bright against the low setting of the lights in the club, and he hesitates for a moment before blocking the phone and putting it down on the table. He doesn’t have Merlin’s number. Arthur looks around the place once more, before settling his sights on the stage, crossing his arms and sinking a bit on his chair.

The white rabbit from the first week is back on the stage, moving across the wooden floorboards towards Dragoon as the old.man gestures towards him. The rabbit leaps, his jump higher and longer than Arthur thought possible, almost as if it was hoovering. Flying. It lands, the nails of its paws clicking against the floor, and lifts one ear as it turns it's head to the magician, unphased by its feat.

Arthur claps politely with the audience, stopping at once someone sits down next to him. He sits straighter as he turns to see who it is, a smile showing on his face. “Of course you were late for-- oh. Hello, morgana.”

“Expecting someone else?” she asks with a smirk that betrays her innocent tone.

“Surprised you're not over there with Godwin.”

“Who?” She frowns, easing once she sees who he's pointing to, “Gwaine! Yes, we'll join him in a moment, dear.”

“You go ahead, he didn't like me very much.”

“Well, of course, Arthur, you kept being a snob about magic tricks. Just keep it down this time.”

“I’m watching it this time,” Arthur replies, frowning.

“Good. Now let’s do it with Gwaine.” And because Morgana knows him too well, instead of moving Arthur, she just turns to her friend and motions for him to join them.

Arthur watches as Gwaine grabs his drink and slides over to their table, at Morgana’s side. “Why are we so further into the back?”

“Arthur is afraid to catch cooties from the show,” Morgana replies, patting her brother’s knee. “aren’t you, dear?”

Arthur moves it away from the touch. “Tables closer to the stage are for paying customers, Morgana.”

“Whatever you say,” Morgana hums, and turns to Gwaine, “but at least he’s watching the show this time, isn’t that sweet?”

“Merlin talked you into it, didn’t he?” Gwaine smirks at him.

“He made some pestering arguments,” Arthur concedes, and hesitates before adding, “I’ve been waiting for him tonight.”

“Didn’t I say? So sweet,” Morgana chuckles, and leans back on her seat, motioning for George to get her a drink.

“Good to see you had a change of heart,” Gwaine says, nodding approvingly, and takes a large sip of his glass.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Baby steps,” Morgana says, and smiles as George puts down a glass for her. “Thank you, George.”

“Bring me another beer, mate,” Gwaine asks him, sliding his empty glass across the table towards him.

“Very well,” George takes away the glass, and in less than a minute is back with a new one.

“The service here is great,” Gwaine says, obviously pleased as he grabs the glass.

“Yes, yes, now hush, let my brother enjoy the show.”

Arthur  sighs as a reply, but his eyes are on the stage. Dragoon started a fire in its hand and somehow isn't getting burnt.

“Amazing, isn't it?” Gwaine says, looking at Arthur's face.

“I wonder how he does it,” Arthur says. “A hologram, perhaps?”

“There's no structure for it. “

“Hm.” Arthur keeps watching the show, ignoring the way Morgana and Gwaine smirk at each other.

It's the first show he watches from beginning to the end, and it is nothing like the bits and pieces he's seen over the years. There are no cards, no ridiculous wands, no assistants, no glitter. Just an old man in a suit, doing unbelievable things.

Arthur’s eyes are wide as he looks at the stage, mouth closed as he holds back any reaction apart from clapping, but the truth is his heart is hammering in his chest, and he doesn’t quite know what to call the feeling growing inside him, and he watches Dragoon change the color of a glass of water with a snap of his fingers, and he sees a chair falling apart at a wave of a hand, and he can’t look away. Wonder, he concludes, as he claps to Dragoon’s last performance, the feeling is _wonder_.

Finally looking away from the stage, he calls over George, ordering a beer for himself. He’s quiet, afterwards, still trying to take in what just happened, trying to understand what he saw and what he’s feeling, but Morgana, as usual, has no patience for him to retrieve into himself.

“So?” she asks, leaning in.

“It wasn’t what I expected it to be,” Arthur says calmly, decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He hates when Morgana gets smug, and he’s not ready to agree with her on anything.

“What did you expect?”

“Card tricks.”

“Arthur, honestly,” Morgana sighs.

A drink is put down on his free side, and Arthur looks away from his sister to glance at it. “George, this isn’t--” and then he has to stop, because looking up as he speaks, he realizes he mistook Merlin for George. “Merlin! Where did you come from? The show just ended.”

Merlin smiles as he sits down beside him. “Backstage.”

“I gave him access there, Arthur,” Morgana adds quickly, sending Merlin a look, who sheepishly looks away.

Arthur glances between them, and, of course. Merlin _is_ a big fan of Dragoon, of course he’d like the chance to see the magician and watch the show more closely. He clasps a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, jolting him lightly. “A bit of warning next time, yes, _Mer_ lin?”

“Sorry,” Merlin is smiling as he speaks, and he might be leaning into Arthur’s hand. “Next time.”

Arthur squeezes his shoulder one more time before dropping his hand to the back of Merlin’s chair, as he turns to see what’s taking George so long. The waiter is coming over, and Arthur’s hand returns to the table.

“So,” Merlin asks, “did you like the show?”

“Why must everyone ask me that?” Arthur leans away for George to put down his beer, giving him a nod in thanks.

“Because you’re an annoying git about it,” Merlin replies, still smiling. Morgana, on Arthur’s other side, snickers in agreement. Gwaine laughs, on Merlin’s left, and ruffles his hair. Merlin ducks his head, grinning, and swats his hand away. Arthur still isn’t very fond of him.

“So?” Merlin asks again, looking at Arthur as he tries to fix his hair with his fingers.

“It wasn’t as dreadful as I thought it’d be,” Arthur says, and he doesn’t regret giving in a little when he gets Merlin grinning at him in response.

“He’s coming along,” Morgana says, patting Arthur’s hand, and he pulls it away, not liking her look of pride.

It’s interesting that Arthur could do with telling Merlin about his confusing feelings over the performance, and could see himself trying to work it out with him, but Morgana and Gwaine are right there, so he keeps his mouth shut. He’ll try to sort things out by himself, when he gets the chance to be alone.

Instead he takes a sip of his beer, looking around the room, and his eye catch on Mr, Kilgharrah, who lifts a drink in toast, obviously pleased. Arthur nods in reply. If the older man approves the show, it’s because it’s something special. It’s different from other magic shows, it’s on another level from them. It might even be alright for Arthur to appreciate it without giving in to Morgana’s nonsense. Putting down his drink, Arthur tunes back into the conversation at his own table, feeling much better about the whole issue.

  


Arthur waits patiently, hands clasped together on his back, feet slightly apart and shoulders rolled back, his posture having shifted as soon as he walked into Camelot. Some might call the building cold and imposing, but Arthur grew around these walls, running backstage and hiding out behind the ticket booths with Morgana, and he knows the place like the back of his hand.

And with the amount of time his father spends there, it’s more of a childhood home than the house his father owns. Arthur moved away to start his own business, but he knows one day he and Morgana will own Camelot, as his father says often enough. And yet he doesn’t come around much anymore these days, busy with Excalibur. He’s only there because his father sent him an email requesting his presence.

He turns to his father’s assistant as she reaches him, smiling at him as she leads him to his father’s office. Her hair is tied tightly in a bun, her back as straight as his own, with long strides of someone who has no time to lose. It’s a common response to working under his father, and even more natural if you were raised by him.

“Mr Pendragon? Your son is here,” she says through the communicator once they reach the right door, and she nods as she listens to the reply, opening the door and turning to Arthur again. “You can come in now.”

“Thank you,” he says with a nod, and goes in.

The office has a wooden flooring, long red curtains framing the large window, the walls filled with bookshelves that Arthur has climbed as a child. There’s a spot on the long desk, marked with red paint from an incident with Morgana and his homework, but it’s hardly visible, hidden on the underside. Arthur doesn’t know if it’s still there, but it stayed for years at least, and he has never been sure if Uther left it there for nostalgia or if he simply didn’t notice it.

“Father,” Arthur says, after he closes the door behind him, eyes on the man sitting behind his desk.

“Ah, Arthur,” Uther gets up, and motions for him to get closer. “Come in.”

Arthur walks in silence until he stands in front of the desk, eyes on his father as he goes to the small bar, pulling out two glasses and a bottle. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, have a seat.” Uther puts the glasses down on the table, and pours them both a drink, before he sits down himself.

Arthur only sits after his father does the same, and grabs a glass, the other hands resting on the armrest.

“I want to share some good news, son,” Uther says, taking a sip of his drink, and to Arthur’s surprise, he actually smiles. “I’m getting married.”

Arthur is very thankful to only have just held his drink up, hand still with now as the glass presses against his lip, because he’s sure he’d have choked on the drink if his father had spoken a moment later. He lowers the glass down, looking at his father in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“I recently got engaged, Arthur, I’m sure you know how it works.”

“I--” Arthur stops, not even knowing what to say. “Engaged?”

“Her name is Catrina,” Uther says, another smile tugging on his lips as he says the name, “and I expected a happier reaction, I must say.”

“I’m sorry, Father, I just...” Arthur pauses, trying to wrap his head around the issue, and takes a large sip of his drink. It burns down his throat. “I didn’t even know you were dating someone. Or open to dating at all.”

Uther nods, leaning back on his tall chair. “I understand, son, it’s a lot to take in. And your mother,” his eyes move to the picture frame on his right side of the desk, Arthur doing the same to look at its back. He’s been on the other side of the desk enough times to know it’s one of the few remaining pictures of his mother, Ygraine smiling at the camera, blonde hair blowing in the wind as her hands rest on her large, pregnant belly. “Your mother was the love of my life, Arthur, and I won’t love another like I loved her.”

Arthur nods. He’s heard enough times, from family friends and Camelot’s older staff, on how romantic and legendary Uther and Ygraine’s love was. He’s known his father would never have another since he was a small child, and he has never questioned that fact, even when Morgana's issue came up. It turns out he was wrong.

“But Catrina makes me happy,” Uther says, his hand reaching to a photograph on the left side of the desk, one Arthur hadn’t noticed before, and he watches, eyes widening, as his father strokes it lightly with a finger, a besotted smile on his face. He’s never seen his father like this. “She makes me feel younger, alive, _vigorous_ , and I’m blessed she has agreed to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” Arthur says carefully. He’s wary, of course, but if this woman really does make his father happy, then he has nothing to complain about.

“You will meet her soon,” Uther states. “Next week, we’ll all go to dinner. Morgana too.”

“Does she know?” Arthur asks.

“Not yet,” Uther says, and Arthur isn’t surprised. If Morgana knew, she’d have told Arthur as soon as she left their father’s office. “I’ll tell her tomorrow. I wanted you to know first. We both know she can be… harsh, in her reaction. You will placate her.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Arthur says. He pauses for a moment, and then speaks again. “Congratulations, Father.”

Uther nods in reply, and they both drink in silence. Arthur resists the urge to glance at the time, knowing he’ll leave only once his father tells him to.

“Another thing,” Uther speaks again, putting down his glass. “Catrina has a niece, a girl of your age. I’ve arranged for you to have dinner with her this Friday.”

“ _Father,”_ Arthur lets out before he can stop himself, a frown growing on his face. “I don’t need your help to have dates. I can do fine on my own.”

And he leaves out how he’d like if his father didn’t constantly  show how he wishes for him to settle with a girl. How despite liking both men and women, his father keeps setting him up with just the latter. He doesn’t say any of it, because he feels thankful enough that his father ignores it rather than pushes him away for it, but it bothers him all the same.

“Obviously you can’t, or you’d have someone of your own by now,” Uther says. “When was the last time you went on a date, or introduced me to a girl? It's time you settle down. “

“But Father--”

“You will do this, Arthur,” his father speaks firmly, leaving ground for no arguments. He raises his glass again, drinking. “You'll see you'll enjoy yourself. Sophia’s a pretty girl.”

“Yes, Father.”

Uther leans back on his seat, positioned as if he was settled on a throne. “Good. I’ll email you the time and place of your date. You're dismissed.”

Arthur nods and leaves the office in silence.

  


“You're here early today, Merlin, are you skipping work?” Arthur puts down on the table two drinks, and sits down on the chair next to Merlin's.

“Gaius let me go, said he didn't need me.”

“And you say you work hard.”

“I do!” Merlin replies puffing out his chest “I do more than you think!”

“Sure you do, Merlin.”

“Dollophead.” Merlin mutters.

“I’m sorry, what?” Arthur pinches a side of his face as he looks at him in confusion.

“You’re a dollophead,” he repeats, raising his chin as he looks at Arthur.

“There’s no such word,” Arthur replies right away, frowning, “describe dollophead.”

“In two words?”

“Yeah.”

“Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur hooks an arm around Merlin’s neck, pulling him into a headlock and rubbing the top of his head, cutting out his laughter. Merlin's hand scramble up to still Arthur's and Arthur lets him for a moment, enjoying the warm feeling of Merlin’s hand over his own, before he lets go of him.

“Prat,” Merlin let's out, but he’s smiling as he pets the top of his own head softly.

Arthur nudges him on the side with his shoulder as he covers a smile of his own. “You're one to talk.”

“Me? I didn’t do anything, you’re the one cuffing me on the head!”

“You’re the one who made up a word to insult me, _Mer_ lin!” Arthur answers straight away.

Merlin smirks, tilting his head. “Who says I made it up just for you? That’s very egocentrical of you.”

Arthur opens his mouth, lost for words as he tries to defend himself, eyes on the wide smile on Merlin’s face, on his long lashes covering his eyes, as they almost close with the size of his smile. “You.. you _dollophead_!”

Merlin laughs then, and shakes his head, “No, no, we’ve already agreed that means Arthur Pendragon.”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Arthur wants to nudge him again, but he’s conscious of every touch on Merlin, and he doesn’t want to push too far.

“Hum, well, you accepted it.”

And Arthur can’t really deny that, so he gives in and nudges Merlin’s side again, and grabs his beer, taking a sip. Merlin is smiling the whole time, grabbing his own drink and twirling it slightly, eyes on the ice moving inside.

“You know,” he says, after a moment, “you never really told me what you thought of Dragoon.”

Arthur finishes his sip of beer, putting down the glass, trying to know what to say. He knows his strengths, but expressing himself with words isn’t one of them, especially when he might be changing his mind on something.

“... It was different from other magic shows,” Arthur says, “not that I’ve seen many.”

“No show is the same,” Merlin replies.

Arthur almost rolls his eyes at that. “Aren’t you full of wonders today, Merlin? Next you’re going to tell me that no, the sky isn’t really blue!”

“Well, it’s true!”

“So is my observation about the sky, doesn’t make it relevant to the conversation. You know what I meant.”

“Not really.”

“Don’t be such an idiot, Merlin,” Arthur prompts him, and then waits for a reply. As Merlin only glares at him in response, he sighs and continues, “You’ve been to magic shows, you know they’re all card tricks and flashy outfits and sexy assistants--”

He’s interrupted by Merlin snorting.

“What, so that’s not it?”

“Not really,” Merlin replies, “well, some are, but not all of them! Everyone has their own show, their own routine, their own speciality.”

“...So not everyone does card tricks?”

“No!” he pauses, before adding quickly, “well, most would know a few of them, it’s usually the first step to learning magic--”

“You know a awful lot about it,” Arthur says, leaning in, “do you want to be a magician, Merlin?”

Merlin hesitates, mouth opening and then twisting into a smile, “I know a few tricks.”

“Do you now?” Arthur asks, smirking a bit, “should I go get a deck for you to show me these skills, then?”

“Well…”

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur drags his chair back, getting up, “I need to see this. Don’t run away now, I’ll be back in a second.”

He goes to the personnel only area, and looks around the resting room for that one deck of cards they have for slow nights. Merlin gives him a dismayed look as he returns, shaking it slightly with a hand.

“You know, for one who keeps complaining about card tricks and magic, you’re very enthusiastic about this,” Merlin says, watching him put down the deck and it’s with obvious reluctance that he grabs it.

“You’re a special case, Merlin.” Arthur sits down again, watching Merlin pull the deck out of the box and shuffling the cards with quick movements, parts of the deck almost seemingly flying from one hand to another. He expected to see Merlin fumble, but he’s actually very graceful with his movements.

“Hmm, that sounds about right,” Merlin mutters under his breath, but before Arthur can ask about it, he’s handed the deck. “Check the cards.”

“Alright,” Arthur takes the deck, opening it in his hand to check each card. “What now?”

“Now you know I haven’t done anything to it,” Merlin motions for Arthur to give it back, which he does. Merlin starts shuffling again, faster this time, eyes on Arthur, and it’s not magic just yet, but he’s impressed with the skill Merlin has handling the cards. He spreads the deck in his hands, face down, and brings it closer to Arthur. “Pick a card.”

Arthur looks down from Merlin’s face to the deck. There’s a way to make magic tricks fail, he knows it. They’re all about suggestion, about watching the wrong thing. The card Merlin wants him to pick has to be slightly different from the others, a bit ahead or behind, so Arthur notices it first and picks it out.

“It’s just a card, Arthur, come on.”

Arthur sends him a look, before taking out a randomly picked card, keeping it face down. “And now?”

“Look at the card.”

Arthur turns the card so he can see it, while keeping the back of it to Merlin, and he stills halfway through the motion, rushing it afterwards and lifting it up, eyes wide. He looks away from the card to see Merlin, who is holding back his laughter with a hand over his mouth, eyes almost slits as he smiles widely.

The card in Arthur’s hand is the king of hearts, with the word _dollophead_ written across it in a black marker.

“How--” he tries to make coherent question, but Merlin laughs then, hand closing over his mouth again. So instead Arthur puts the card down and grabs the deck, checking every card, but they’re all clean, and the missing king of hearts is the one he picked. “How did you do this?”

Merlin shakes his head, a smile so wide on his face that it his cheeks must be hurting.

“Merlin, how did you know I’d pick this card?”

“I didn’t,” Merlin says, sounding very pleased with himself.

“Then-- how--”

“A magician never reveals his tricks,” Merlin says, unable to stop another laugh coming out.

Arthur flicks the card towards him, hitting Merlin on his chest and dropping back on the table, facing up so the word dollophead is still very much visible to them. “Maybe I should be putting you on the stage, instead of Dragoon, shouldn’t I, Merlin?”

“I don’t look good on the spotlight,” Merlin says, ducking his head a bit.

“Nonsense,” Arthur replies right away, stopping as he realizes he was about to make a comment on Merlin’s cheekbones. Instead he nudges him slightly, “well, no more than usual, I bet.”

Merlin is all smiles for the rest of the evening, the corner of his mouth tugging every time he looks down at the card and once he’s gone, Arthur picks it up, shaking his head slightly, a fond smile on his face as he turns it. Maybe some magic tricks have a charm of its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this update, and thank you so much to those who've been leaving kudos and comments, you honestly make my day!


	4. Three is Company

Arthur just finished picking out a shirt, and is halfway through putting it on when he hears his phone beep with a new message. He’s buttoning the shirt as he walks to his bed, where he had carefully dropped his phone and picking it up, and he reads the text from Merlin, who is wondering where he is.

He sighs, letting go of the shirt to run a hand through his hair, his hopes of getting his evening canceled gone once more. He stares at Merlin’s message for a while, trying to figure out how to reply to it. He’s been spending all his evenings with him, and somehow he didn’t figure out how to tell him that tonight he has a date.

Arthur feels like a coward, especially taking into account that there is nothing _really_ going on between him and Merlin, but he doesn’t want to seem unavailable to Merlin, he doesn’t want to seem straight, and he certainly doesn’t want to have the conversation where he goes _“don’t you worry, Merlin, because I go both ways so there’s still room for you if you’re interested”_ , mostly because that makes him sound promiscuous and, well, Merlin wouldn’t really be interested and Arthur would lose his friendship.

So instead he replies ‘can’t make it tonight, sorry ’, and hopes that’s enough. He drops the phone back on the bed, turning away as it bounces on it, and goes to stand in front of the mirror, fixing his shirt. The jacket he puts on top of it feels heavy, but he ignores it as he leans in and combs his hair with his fingers, fixing parts of his fringe.

His phone beeps again, and he stands in front of the mirror, looking at it for a moment, and the phone gives a second alert. He gives in and goes see the replies.

 

(merlin: did you perform your own vanishing act or…  
arthur: can’t make it tonight, sorry  
merlin: ??? very considerate of you to warn ahead of time  
merlin: clotpole  
arthur: clotpole? another new insult for me, Merlin? I’m feeling very flattered  
merlin: it’s surprising how much you inspire me, really  
arthur: I knew I was a special case  
merlin: oh you’re special alright)

Arthur lets out a small, incredulous laugh, and drops the phone again on the bed, not knowing how to reply and deciding he can brush his teeth as he thinks about it. He fixes his hair once more after washing his mouth, and rushes back into the bedroom, to check the time. Merlin didn’t add anything else, and Arthur is about to run late, so he doesn’t reply either.

He drives his way constantly glancing at the phone he dropped on the passenger's seat, not sure if he’s hoping for a text from Merlin or his father canceling the whole thing. Neither come. As soon as he parks the car, he sets the phone on meetings mode, putting it in his pocket as he walks into the restaurant.

The reservation is under his father’s name, and his date isn’t there yet. Arthur sits alone at the table, and checks his phone for the time, and absolutely not to see if Merlin texted him again. As, well, since he _did_ , Arthur goes along with it and checks it out.

 

(merlin:Did I hurt your feelings?  
arthur:No, Merlin, I was merely trying to come up with a way to break it to you who here has problems  
merlin:No, I'm pretty sure I hurt your feelings  
arthur:Believe me, you didn't.  
merlin:No no, I did, or you wouldn't giving me the silent treatment  
arthur:I'm answering, aren't I?  
merlin:Yeah, like half an hour later  
merlin:And here I thought you'd like to be special to me ;) )

Arthur freezes the moment he sees the last text, heart pounding as he reads the words again, holding the phone closer because he’s pretty sure-- well, not sure at all, really, but it sure sounds like Merlin is _flirting_ with him. In his odd, Merlin way, yes, but that last text…

He taps on the bar to reply, thumb hovering over the keyboard, and stopping there, uncertain. He should answer back in kind, but what if Merlin isn’t doing an odd Merlin flirt, but just being odd Merlin as usual? He needs to reply in a way that can both be seen as flirting or something he can blow off as a joke, so it doesn’t do any damage to their friendship if he’s misreading things.

And Arthur manages to type in a _y_ before he’s interrupted, head raising quickly as someone speaks to him.

“Arthur Pendragon?” a woman asks, shifting the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “I'm Sophia Tirmor.”

She's beautiful, with long brown hair, a round face and a pretty mouth, and at least Arthur has to concede that his father never sets him up with ugly girls. He gets up, and extends a hand to her. Her touch is soft and gentle, and Arthur's manners kick in, moving around to pull a chair for her.

She gives him a small smile as she sits down, and Arthur goes back to his seat, hesitating as his hand rests on his phone over the table, as it vibrates right then.

“Just a second,” he says, and quickly unblocks the phone. Merlin had texted him again _‘see? I did hurt your feelings, I knew it, you overgrown baby’._ Arthur sighs, figuring he lost his window of opportunity, and puts the phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” she answers with a smile that doesn’t feel fake, and Arthur feels himself smiling back in return.

“So tell me about yourself,” Arthur prompts, as he motions for a waiter to bring in the menus, eyes on her. He’s been on more than enough dates set up by his father to know how to proceed in them, and he might not be fully into it, but he’s not going to be rude to the girl. After all, she’s related to his future stepmother, and he doesn’t want to start trouble before even meeting said woman. And, well, Sophia is very beautiful.

“Well, I don’t have much to say without more specific questions,” she laughs softly, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear, the curls rising up from her shoulder to her back. “I’ve moved in to London with my father a few months ago, so I’m still trying to learn everything about this place.”

“I could show you around.”

“Thank you,” she smiles at him again. “I came to promote and spread my business, actually. Paradise Awaits, it’s a green action movement. Humans have corrupted this planet for far too long, and we need to save our green life.”

“True enough,” Arthur says, “it’s good to see people taking action against injustices.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she smiles as she speaks, and her tone is almost ominous, but they’re interrupted by the waiter arriving with the menus.

“Thanks,” Arthur says politely as he takes one, opening it afterwards. His eyes roam quickly on his choices, and waits for Sophia to make her choice before telling out his order. The waiter leaves with the menus again, and Arthur looks at his date once more.

“Why did you agree to do this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She laughs softly, a hand covering her mouth. “Arthur. I’ve been told you’re blunt, but wasn’t expecting this. No, no,” she adds quickly as he frowns, “it’s charming. I haven’t dated in a while, and Aunt Catrina said your father could not praise you enough, and I thought ‘why not’?”

Arthur is silent, heart pounding for a moment, and his hand curls on the napkin he was picking up. He never imagined his father would actually praise him to anyone, as if he was proud of him. Arthur knows that leaving Camelot to start his own business had been a blown to his father, who hoped to groom him on his own and from the inside for the day Arthur takes over the theater, and he hasn’t heard a compliment from his father ever since.

“How about you?” she asks, leaning in.

“I suppose I could say the same for myself,” he replies, glancing at her, sitting straighter.

“Then we’re in this boat together,” Sophia says with a smile. “and I promise I won’t let you drown.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, a bit surprised at her sense of humour, and Sophia’s smile grows. Before he can reply in kind, the waiter arrives with the wine, letting Arthur taste it before he approves it, and the man serving them fills their glasses before leaving. Arthur’s glad to have some alcohol present, but he still waits a moment before taking the glass and tasting it again.

“You’re running a bar, right? Excalibur, with shows,” Sophia says, “tell me about that.”

Arthur smiles as he leans forward, first explaining the setup of his business, but soon enough, as the food arrives, they’re discussing their similar music tastes, the plays they’ve seen, and Arthur is enjoying himself, as surprised as he is by it, realizing it halfway through the meal, when Sophia excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

He checks his phone then, to see the time, and as he unlocks it it’s to the screen of his conversation with Merlin. He hesitates, unsure how right it is to reply to him while on a date with Sophia, and settles for _‘isn’t an overgrown baby an adult?’_. He puts the phone down on the table, picking it up a second after as it buzzes again.

 _‘Semantics’_ , Merlin’s text reads, and Arthur chuckles. The phone buzzes in his hands as another text comes right in _‘there’s a band playing and who’s here to teach me all about their origins and genre?’_

Arthur only hesitates for a moment, glancing around to see if Sophia is coming back, but she’s nowhere in sight. _‘Wishing I was there with you, Merlin?’_ he replies, sending in before he can doubt himself. That sounds like the right amount of flirting and not flirting in case Merlin isn’t doing it too, and he knows better than to read over and over his words before sending them. His heart has picked up its speed as he stares at the screen, wondering how long now he has to wait for an answer. Maybe he shouldn’t have sent that text.

 _‘I’ve grown used to you being condescending to me. Bad habits’_ comes the reply, and Arthur isn’t sure of how to read it. Is that a good sign, did Merlin notice at all that Arthur had tried? Or had he ignored it? Or was this Merlin’s way to flirt back? Arthur hates, hates chatting via text, he’s not good at reading words as he is reading people, he’s too visual for this.

 _‘I’m not condescending, i’m educating you! someone has to’_ he sends in, sighing softly. Maybe another day, face to face he’ll try it again. If it looks like Merlin would welcome it. That is, if he should try at all, Arthur thinks guiltily, as Sophia comes into view. It’s not exactly right on his part to be flirting with Merlin while on a date with her. She’s incredible, sweet and kind and beautiful, and meanwhile he might be ruining a friendship by misreading things.

 _‘Yeah, you’re right, that wasn’t condescending at all’_ Merlin answers, and Arthur has to laugh.

 _‘Merlin’_ he sends in, chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Sophia asks as she sits down.

Arthur shakes his head, his phone buzzing in his hands. “Nothing, just a friend updating me on something. Just a second.”

 _‘Yes?’_ he sees as he glances down at the screen. He’s still smiling as he replies _‘shut up.’_ , and blocks the phone, putting it back on his pocket. It buzzes again, but Arthur is looking at Sophia’s pretty blue eyes again, so he leaves it be.

“So, where were we?” he asks, and she smiles beautifully at him.

After dinner he walks her to a cab, as she refuses a ride home. He takes it as things having not gone well between them, despite how sweet she was, but once they stop by the cab, she takes one of his hands in hers, leans up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek, her touch soft, making Arthur close his eyes and lean in for more.

“Thank you for tonight,” Sophia says, touching his arm with her free hand as she pulls back. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight,” he says, opening the door for her. She looks over her shoulder at him with a smile once she’s inside, and he closes the door. She gives him a small wave before looking away to speak to the cabbie.

Arthur stays rooted to the spot, and watches her go.

 

 

“Uther can’t be thinking straight, Arthur,” Morgana tells him again, and he takes her am in silence, walking her to the front door. “It’s not right. Engaged out of nowhere? Uther? Have you ever seen him act like this?”

“You know I haven’t, Morgana,” Arthur says, his tone strong, “which is why I’m here to give it a chance. He’s happy, can you really take that from him?”

“I can if he’ll regret it in the long run,” Morgana says. “I can if it’s for his own good.”

“Now you’re sounding like him.”

She swats his arm, and then presses closer. “Don’t be such a smartass, Arthur, it really doesn’t suit you.”

They stop by the front door, and Arthur grabs Morgana’s wrist before she can ring the bell. “Morgana,” he turns to look at her in the eye, “I know it’s odd, and I know it’s too fast. But we need to give her a chance. Father is a hard man to fool, and it’s his happiness on the line here. He doesn’t trust easily, and you should support his choices.”

“I’ll behave,” Morgana pulls her hair over her shoulder, raising her chin, “but I’ll also be wary. You’re right, Arthur, it is Uther’s happiness on the line, and I’m going to make damn sure whoever this Catrina is can handle it.”

Arthur lets go of her hand, supposing that’s as much as he can ask of her, and waits in silence until the door opens, their father grinning at them from the other side.

“Arthur, Morgana, welcome,” he steps aside to let them in, and his children share a look before doing so. Arthur can argue as much as he wants about his father’s happiness being important, but it’s another thing entirely to see him like this, smiling and warm. It’s almost like seeing a different man using his father’s face.

Arthur shakes his hand, and watches him kiss Morgana’s cheek, before being led into the living room. Giggles are heard as they arrive, and Arthur’s attention shifts to the large couch by the fireplace, where two women sit. They turn their heads to look at them, both brown haired and beautiful, although one of them much older than the other. The younger is Sophia, who smiles sweetly at Arthur, and he can’t help but to reply in kind.

“Uther, they are beauties,” the other woman says, getting up, and walks to Arthur’s father, holding out a hand for him to take. She pats Uther’s arm with her free hand, and Arthur looks at her properly now. Where Sophia’s beauty comes from her softness, her innocent looks, this woman, Catrina, obviously, has a beauty that stems from strength. She’s poised, and she’s younger than Uther, visibly, although well older than Arthur, so he’s unsure of what to say of the age difference. She holds herself as someone who has power, who is strong, and those are values both him and Uther approve. His father smiles at her as if she’s the sun, and that makes up his mind. “You never told me how your children were so dashing. They cut such a figure.”

“Catrina, you are always a delight,” Uther says, his tone showing how besotted he is. Arthur didn’t even know his voice could do that. “Arthur, Morgana, meet your stepmother, Catrina.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Arthur says, moving swiftly from offering a handshake to kissing her cheek as she leans forward for the latter. She greets Morgana with a kiss on each cheek, and Arthur watches it in amusement, before his eyes land on Sophia, who went to his side.

“Hello, Arthur,” she says, looking at him with her pretty clear eyes, under long lashes. The gesture reminds him of someone, but Arthur dismisses it as her mouth shifted into a smile, just as soft as she was.

“Sophia,” he replies with a smile of his own, realizing how saying her name after the couple of days after their date sounded sweet on his tongue. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“So am I,” her petite hand rests on his arm for a moment, and Arthur leans in without a thought, “and you owe me a tour around the place.”

“That I do.” his hand rests over hers, and her smile in reply is a reward.

“Arthur, will you introduce us?” Morgana asks, an eyebrow raised as she looks between them, and at the hand Arthur is dropping.

“Of course.” Arthur shifts his stance slightly. “Morgana, this is Sophia, Catrina’s niece. Sophia, Morgana’s my sister.”

“Pleasure,” Sophia says, and they shake hands, the touch as limited as possible.

“How did the two of you meet?” Morgana asks, taking Arthur’s arm, her hands resting lightly on it as she pulls him to his side, a step further away from Sophia. Arthur goes without protest, but his eyes linger on the pretty girl.

“We went on a date last Friday,” Arthur says, and he shares a smile with Sophia, his stopping as soon as Morgana speaks again.

“Friday? So that is why Merlin was sitting on his own at the club like a lost pup that day.”

“Merlin?”

“A friend,” Arthur tells Sophia quickly, before Morgana can answer that for him. He doesn’t know what she’d say, and he doesn’t want Sophia to think there’s anything between them.

“The one you texted during our date,” Sophia realizes, and Morgana turns to look at Arhtur, eyebrow raised. He hates when she looks at him like that.

“Well--” he tries to explain that it wasn’t like _that_ , even though it kind of had been, but luckily Uther comes along, Catrina at his side.

“Let’s continue this in the dining room,” he says, and they’re all led there. Uther sits on the head of the table, Catrina on his right, with Morgana beside her. On Uther’s other side is Arthur and Sophia, and he has to approve these seating arrangements. And then Morgana looks at Arthur in dismay, making it all the better.

Dinner, however, is sickening. Not the food, which is as bountiful and delicious as ever, but Uther and Catrina spend the entire time being disgustingly in love with each other, and Arthur has had enough of listening to how _virile_ and _handsome_ his father is by the end of the first course.

The only salvation is Sophia at his side, which permits him to look away from the display of Catrina bringing a fork to Uther’s mouth, and instead chatting softly with the girl, who laughs and smiles and gives him light touches with her hand as they speak.

Morgana strikes conversation often enough, and Arthur might be very repulsed by his father flirting, but Catrina is as besotted as his father is, and that’s all he could ask for. By the end of the dinner, he’s seen enough to know Catrina will make him more than happy. And it seems she approves of him and Morgana as well.

“It’s so clear your children grew under your strong and loving touch,” Catrina says, her hands on Uther’s arm and chest, as they sit down on the couch again. “Who could ever doubt the wonderful job you did, my love?”

Uther’s hand rest over Catrina’s, smiling at her as he leans in close. “I am glad you think so, my darling,” he says, his voice deep, and they simply don’t look away from each other, and Arthur has to do it, turning his face away before he gets sick. It’s one thing to approve them, another is to have to watch them like that.

“Arthur,” Sophia comes to him, and he is so grateful for the distraction, “will you show me around the house?”

“Yes, Arthur, let’s,” Morgana says quickly, and he glares at her, not wanting a third wheel. Morgana’s grip on his arm and her quick steps out of the room, tugging him along, make him realize why she’s so keen to join them, especially when he glances back to see his father nuzzling his nose on Catrina’s. Yes, he understands, he can’t really fault her. He shrugs lightly at Sophia, who seems put out as well, and he’s pleased, offering her his arm, as he realizes she wishes to be alone with him too.

Morgana leads the way, a step ahead of them as they walk around the house, opening the doors and showing the rooms and doing most of the talking. Arthur intervenes only to defend his own person against every humiliating story Morgana has to offer, voice rising in indignation, but Sophia giggles charmingly at his side, looking up at him with her pretty eyes every time, so it’s not that bad.

“And this,” Morgana says, hand closing on the door handle, turning it, “is Arthur’s bedroom. Now, I must prepare you for the _awful_ posters on his walls--”

“Morgana,” Arthur says, stepping forward, and both shut up as she opens the door and they look inside.

His bedroom had been unchanged ever since he moved out years ago, with posters of his youth, college manuals on his desk, pictures from high school on his walls. His room has always been there in case Arthur needed to stay the night. He’d always have a room there, his father told him one time, as Arthur offered to clean it up. Arthur always thought it was in moment like those that his father’s warmest nature shone through, letting him know Arthur would always be cared for.

Except his bedroom has been cleared out. His bed is gone, the trophies of his old football team are nowhere in sight, the walls have been painted over, covering the ridiculous scribbles Leon and him had done after drinking too much one night, and Arthur can smell the fresh paint as he steps in. Even the carpet is new. There’s nothing of him in sight.

He doesn’t know what to name the feeling, of looking at the space and not recognizing it, after having called it his own for all of his life. He’s stepping on the blue carpet for the first time, and he’s never seen the desk against the wall before, the wardrobe standing where his bed used to be, the shelves and drawers filling in the room. There’s something swelling in his chest as he looks around the room, and he turns enough so his eyes land on Morgana, looking for guidance.

His sister has that look she gets when someone gets her order wrong and she has to decide to either accept it or complain and have to wait even more for it to come back right, and isn’t sure which will leave her worse. She gives a step forward, stopping right at the door, and then rushes off to the side, out of Arthur’s sight as she goes down the hallway. He hears a door opening wide, and he presumes she went to see her own bedroom. The sound she lets out doesn’t sound too good, but Arthur can’t make himself move, his eyes wandering again to the new walls of his old room.

“This is your bedroom?” Sophia asks, coming in, brows close together in confusion, and Arthur softens a bit looking at her. He feels more grounded the closer she gets, and his head bows when she takes his hand. He squeezes it, closing his eyes for a moment.

“It used to be,” he says.

“I see,” Sophia nods, “aunt Catrina needs space for her things now that she’s moved in, and you have your own home.”

“Yes,” Arthur says, “that’s reasonable.” And it is, he understands it, but it does nothing to remove the hollow feeling in his chest.

“Arthur,” Sophia speaks his name in a soft tone, grabbing his free hand as well, and pressing them against his chest as she leans in, getting up on her tiptoes to reach him. He can’t look away from her eyes as she murmurs something, head tilting forward so he can get closer.

“Arthur,” it’s not Sophia this time, but Morgana who calls him, her voice shaking slightly in anger, and he’s back in his room again. Well, not his room anymore, but the room. For a moment, he’d forgotten.

He looks at her as Sophia steps back, and Morgana motions him to follow her. He slowly moves again, out of the room, Sophia sighing as she goes with him. They follow Morgana into her bedroom, and Arthur sees where his bed went.

The room is crowded, much more than Arthur’s, with both Arthur and Morgana’s beds there, as well as her wardrobe. Her desk is gone, so are most of the decorations on the wall, and the floor is filled with open cardboard boxes stuffed with objects. He spots the shine of one of his high school trophies in one of them. The painting Morgana did during highschool, of a lake and misty mountains, is off the wall and resting on her bed, as if it needs a place to go which hasn’t been decided yet. He breaks from Sophia’s side and walks to Morgana, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not right,” Morgana says, looking as lost as Arthur feels for a moment, before she hardens again, eyes on him. “He doesn’t have the right.”

“It’s not our home anymore, Morgana,” he says, “we don’t live here, and they needed the space.”

“Arthur--”

“I know,” he says, stopping her, “but he has the right.”

“I’m going home,” Morgana says, “I can’t stay here.”

“I’ll tell father--”

“You’re coming with me.”

Arthur takes one long look at her, at her raised chin and her hands closed tightly, her eyes darting quickly to the side, and her mouth shut in a thin line so it doesn’t tremble, and he recognizes all the signs. Arthur nods and says “I’m going with you.”

“Good,” Morgana says, and walks past him out of the room, not looking back once.


	5. Fire and Water

Arthur calls ahead to Leon on Tuesday morning, as he finishes breakfast at Morgana’s place, warning him he’s taking the morning off.

“Did something happen?” Leon’s voice echoes a little on speakers, but Arthur’s eating, so he’s freeing his hands as much as he can.

“Dinner last night didn’t go as planned.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Morgana says dryly, as she passes by the table to go get a mug.

"..is that Morgana?" Leon asks.

"Who else?" Morgana says, "hello, Leon."

"Good morning," Leon's voice goes very polite, and Arthur wants to roll his eyes.

"Yes, yes, Leon. I'll see you after lunch."

"Alright," Leon says, "we'll talk later then."

Arthur hangs up, and stuffs his mouth with bread and cheese.

Morgana gives him a disgusted look as she sits down across the table. "Skipping work, Arthur?"

"Just the morning," he says, "I still need to go home for a clean change of clothes, since someone wanted me here last night."

Morgana takes a long sip out of her mug, keeping quiet. Arthur doesn't push it, since he had needed the company as well, and it’d been years since the last time they had been there for each other like that.

"That doesn't take all morning," Morgana says eventually, and Arthur shrugs. "What are you skipping work for, Arthur?"

"No reason."

"Is it a date?"

"What? In the morning? No."

"You're going to see Sophia again, aren't you?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

She just says "Arthur", her lips curling up, and he has to puff out and look away.

"Why do you ask?"

"You seem very fond of her," Morgana says, her tone not exactly teasing.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Arthur frowns a bit, looking at her.

"You've only met her twice and you're... it just seems very sudden, your whole business with her."

Arthur's hands close, tension growing on his shoulders. "She's a beautiful woman who's interested in me. I don't see where the issue is."

"What about--" Morgana stops that train of thought, and leans forward to take some food out of Arthur's plate. "I just have a bad feeling. It's difficult to describe," she says.

"Right. Well, I'm the one who actually has spent some time with her, and I can assure you I didn't get any bad feelings. You're imagining things."

Morgana frowns at him. "I'm trying to protect you, Arthur. Something's not right."

"No, you're projecting father's situation," Arthur says, "you're seeing how quickly we connect the way he connected with Catrina, and you think we'll be the same. Well, we won't. Sophia's incredible, and you're reading too much into things."

"Fine, then let's just hope I'm wrong."

“You are,” Arthur replies sharply, getting up. He shoves his plate towards Morgana so she can finish it off, and leaves the room to grab his jacket, his tongue moving across his dry upper teeth, needing to go home so he can brush them properly. He stops on the kitchen again to warn he’s leaving, and stops as he sees his sister.

Morgana looks tired, her shoulders slightly hunched forward in a way is very much unlike her, and Arthur’s fight leaves him quickly. He walks to her and pats the top of her head, thumb stroking her temple slowly. Her head tilts up to look at him, and he almost pulls her against his chest. Instead he tugs lightly on her hair, making her yelp and swat at him.

“You’re intolerable. Go away,” Morgana pushes him away with a hand on his stomach, and he does so, laughing.

  
 

Arthur checks the address again on his phone, and walks down the street, stopping once he arrives the front of a shop, with ‘The Physician’ written in large letters on the window. He puts the phone back into his pocket, and walks in, head turning as he looks around the place.

There are pots with plants, bottles and flasks and pills that have a very alternative look to them, and the store itself smells like cooking herbs, not enough to overwhelm Arthur, but present all the same. At the end of the shop there’s a counter with a cashier, and behind it, Merlin has his back turned, focused on something.

Arthur moves closer, as quietly as he can, and once he’s close enough he peeks over Merlin’s shoulder, chuckling as he can finally tell what Merlin is doing exactly.

“I see you’re terribly busy, Merlin. You’re right, you do work very hard.”

Merlin jumps, phone almost slipping out of his hands, he even has to press it against his chest to stop it from falling into the floor, and then he turns, wide eyed to look at him. “Arthur!”

Arthur crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow as Merlin’s phone plays a silly tune, doing his best to keep his face serious. “You should check your phone, that sounds very important for your work.”

“it’s-- oh,” Merlin does check his phone, shoulders dropping as he looks at the screen. “I lost. I was almost at my high score.”

“Busy day, I see.”

“No, it’s--” Merlin opens his mouth, looking around, “it’s…”

“Don’t even try, Merlin,” Arthur chuckles, leaning forward on the counter. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“It’s a slow day,” Merlin says. “That happens, sometimes.”

“I see.”

They just look at each other for a moment, and Arthur realizes that he has missed Merlin, feeling like fondly ruffling Merlin’s hair. Merlin grins, as if he can read his thoughts.

“You missed the magic show last night.”

“I did,” Arthur says, “had dinner with my family, to meet my father’s...” he hesitates over what to call her, “..future wife.”

“Right, you told me about it,” Merlin nods, “...and Morgana had a few things to say.”

“I bet she did,” Arthur says, but doesn’t dwell into the subject. The issues he has with what happened aren’t rational, and it feels ridiculous to bring it up. Sophia had made a good point, after all. “How was the show?”

“Not the same without you there judging it,” Merlin says with a cheeky smile.

Arthur can’t help but to lean in, “Really, now, Merlin?” with a smirk growing on his own face “And here I thought you liked the shows.”

“It’s just not the same without you there to slander it,” Merlin says.

“You say it as if you’ve seen the show with me before,” Arthur replies, and looks at Merlin, surprised to realize they’ve only known each other for about a month. It’s too easy to get along with Merlin, and he feels comfortable with him, at ease after such a short time. He’s been told he trust too quickly, Morgana likes to point that out often enough, and he sees it for the first time as he watches Merlin. He feels like he’s known Merlin since the beginning of time.

“I say it as someone who’s sacrificed his time to listen you to nitpick everything you can about the shows.”

“You only do it because you want to, Merlin,” Arthur says, smiling a bit despite himself.

Merlin just grins, “Or I’m being paid to endure it so others won’t.”

“But you enjoy it so much for free,” Arthur leans in, elbow on the counter between them.

“Poor Arthur,” Merlin pats his forearm, “your ears are clogged, or you’d have heard me say sacrifice and endure. Lucky for you, we’re in the right place for it.”

“To endure?” Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, to get something to take care of the size of your head,” Merlin looks around the shelves, very pensive, even as a smile keeps trying to break on his face

“Very funny, Merlin,” Arthur says, just to so Merlin is unable to hold back that smile, and he watches him chuckle, looking back at Arthur, and again they hold each other’s gaze in silence. The air feels heavier, and Arthur leans more of his weight on his elbow, the feeling of Merlin’s hand on his arm constant and warm, and he can’t make himself look away from Merlin, his lips parting slightly as Merlin leans closer as well.

Arthur’s phone vibrates loudly, breaking the moment, and Arthur pulls back to check it. He’s filled with shame and guilt as he sees the text Sophia sent him, asking him if he’s free tonight, and his immediate reaction is to step back, his arm sliding away from Merlin’s hold as if he got burnt. This isn’t fair on Sophia, she deserves better from him.

“Everything alright?” Merlin asks.

“Yes, I,” Arthur can't make himself look at Merlin, eyes on the phone, “I have a date tonight.”

Merlin doesn't say anything, and Arthur grows uncomfortable, feeling wrong.

“She's Catrina's niece, we exchanged numbers last night.”

“You like her?” Merlin speaks at last, and Arthur manages to look at him. He's smiling, head tilting a bit to the side, but there's something off.

Arthur feels off, truth be told, as if everything is slipping from his fingers as he stands by. “Yes,” he says, and his voice is firm, because if there is one thing he knows for sure, it's that Sophia has his heart.

“Does she like you?”

“I think so.”

“Of course you do, you egocentric monkey, “ Merlin’s smile is more honest as he insults him, and Arthur feels better just by witnessing it.

He can’t quite smile back, even if he isn’t sure why, and slides his phone back into his pocket. He knows there’s something wrong with what just happened, but he’ll figure it out later.

  
 

That evening Arthur meets Sophia at a park, and she moves to him gracefully, getting on her tiptoes and moving her arms around his neck, telling something against his shoulder in such a soft voice he doesn’t understand it. She kisses his cheek and pulls back a little, and looking at her feels like an ocean wave crashed on him, stunned as he’s filled with love for her smile.

Being in love never felt this much like drowning, but it feels like fate too, and Arthur doesn’t fight against the tide, especially when Sophia takes his hand, her hand on his like an anchor. When her fingers graze his chin, he’s helpless, leaning in as she commands, and finally, the touch of her lips on his own take away everything but her from his mind.

“Come on,” she smiles at him, pulling him along the path, “I’ve heard there’s a beautiful lake here, can you show it to me?”

 

He feels the cold of the water soaking through his clothes and freezing him to the bone, but Sophia’s gaze on him, as her hand presses on his head, warms him up inside, just enough so he can forget the cold. Just enough so he lets her pull his head underwater.

 

The water burns his throat as he coughs it out, curling on his side as he pukes afterwards, his lugs tight and painful, as if they’re being punctured by a thousand needles with every quick breath he takes. He’s shaking, the cold now leaving him numb, and his fast paced heartbeat does nothing to warm him. Breathing is a struggle, and his quick, shallow breaths are interrupted time and time again as he vomits more water.

There are hands in his hair, on his chest, and they burn him like fire, but he seeks its warmth nonetheless.

“Hold on, the ambulance is almost here,” someone says.

“They said to undress him,” another voice speaks, and Arthur recoils, trying to move away, but his eyes burn when he tries to open them, and his vision is blurred, the edges fading into black.

  
 

Arthur comes to himself in stages, first to an annoying beeping sound from his left, then to the headache that feels like his skull was stuffed with foam, a dizziness as he turns his head on the pillow, and then the feeling of something in his face. His limbs are heavy as he slowly drags a hand up, stopping once his fingers brush on the mask over his mouth. Opening his eyes is a struggle, but a necessity, even if it doesn’t take much to undersand he’s at a hospital.

“Arthur!” Morgana is all over him, eyes wide, her hair a mess as she leans over the bed, her hands unable to settle anywhere, touching his cheeks and his hair and his chest, and he tries to swat her hands away, but his movements are sluggish. Her warm hands settle over Arthur’s, and he doesn’t mind that at all. He’s so cold.

“My boy,” he hears his father’s voice, and Arthur turns his head slowly to see his father. He doesn’t look so visibly distressed as Morgana is, but his face is tight with worry, and his gaze is warm.

Arthur speaks, the sound muffled with the air mask. “What… what happened?” his voice is hoarse, and he regrets speaking because his throat is sore, the need to cough overwhelming everything else but the cold.

“You almost drowned,” Morgana says, clutching to his hand. “Do you remember what happened?”

Arthur’s breathing was already quick and harsh, but that increases as he tries to wrap his head about what he’s being told. He doesn’t remember, he doesn’t know what’s going on. He tries to think back, he remembers… a girl? But her features are vague, and even as he struggles he can’t name her. “...I… no…”

“Traumatic experiences can do these things,” Uther speaks, his voice firm, but comforting all the same. “It was a stroke of luck that Morgana and a friend were out for a walk and found you.”

“Speaking of it,” Morgana looks away from Arthur to their father, “the nurse said it was alright to bring more people in when he woke up.”

More people? Arthur doesn’t understand who could be waiting outside. The girl he can’t remember, maybe?

Morgana squeezes his hand before letting go of it, and Arthur almost shudders as the cold seeps deeper into him, but his muscles are so tense they feel locked tight. “I’ll be right back.”

Arthur nods and turns his head to his father again, who pulls a chair and sits down, close to Arthur’s bed. He has been looking up to his father long enough to see the not well concealed reactions, the hardness on his mouth, the lines on his eyes. He wants to assure him he’s fine, but Arthur doesn’t remember what it feels like to be warm, and his throat protests at the smallest word he tries to let out.

Morgana comes back in, a frown on her face, and behind her comes Catrina, rushing to Uther’s side and taking Arthur’s hand. He’s confused as he looks at her, because he knows who she is, but his idea of her is vague, more than it should be. She’s speaking, turning between him and Uther with obvious worry, but he can’t make himself listen, too worried about these limitations on his mind. Are they temporary, are they caused from trauma or from nearly dying? How long was he out? He knows, he knows there are chances of neurological damage if a person isn’t rescued soon enough, and he’s so afraid of what that can mean to him.

And then he sees that another person came in, joining Morgana on the other side of his bed, hunched over with a blanket over his shoulder, a dark mop of hair damp, clinging to his forehead, making his ridiculous ears stand out even more than usual.

“Merlin,” Arthur lets out, his voice hoarse, and the shaky smile he gets from him takes his breath away.

“You bone idle toad,” Merlin says, pulling the blanket more tightly around himself.

Arthur lets out a soundless laugh, more like a harsh output of air, but he’s smiling, and finally he starts to feel a bit of warmth at his core. He struggles with his breath for a moment, but manages to speak “You clotpole.”

“You know, it’s when you speak to me like this that I ask myself why did I pull your ungrateful ass out of the water,” Merlin says, but he takes Arthur’s limp hand on the bed, his fingers curling on Arthur’s. The motion reminds him of something, but Merlin’s hand isn’t as burning hot as everyone else’s, and he manages to make himself close his fingers over Merlin’s.

Merlin’s smile grows, and Arthur feels his own doing the same, a bit hampered with the mask. For the remaining of Arthur’s stay at the hospital no one leaves his side, and he slowly feels better. His memory should return, and he’s not hurt, so what happened to him was most likely an accident. He’s starting to warm up, and breathing is getting easier, and Merlin’s hand never leaves his own.

 


	6. The Voice of Dragoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that this chapter (and the ones following it) have been beta'd by [Violentincest ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/violentincest/pseuds/violentincest), thanks for all the help!

Arthur stays at Morgana’s place after leaving the hospital, and he might be cold, constantly sneezing and too feverish to do anything at all, but even that gets boring after a few days, having nothing to do but stare at his phone or computer, and not even as often as he’d like, as the bright light from the screens make him feel his heartbeat even louder in his skull.

He figures that while he’s trying to recover physically from what happened, he might as well get his head sorted. He doesn’t remember almost anything related to the girl he had been with during that night. Arthur knows she’s named Sophia, and he finds himself looking at their last exchange of texts often enough, before he asks Morgana about that night. Sophia had asked him to meet at the park where he drowned, but had Morgana and Merlin been invited too?

“We weren’t all together,” Morgana says when he asks, “you were on a date with her, and I was with Merlin on some other part of the park. She ran into us at some point, saying she had a family emergency, and we found you a bit later.”

But she doesn’t offer much more than that, and Arthur leaves texts to Sophia that she doesn’t reply to, and when he tries calling, it says her phone is off. He’s worried about himself because apparently in the short time he knew her, he had liked her enough to put his feelings for Merlin aside, and now he can’t even remember her face. And what does it say about the girl, who hasn’t tried contacting him even once, even though he almost drowned?

So one day he waits for Morgana to leave for work, before shoving a bunch of pills down his throat and putting on as many jackets as he can, dressed for a storm as he moves out of her flat. He knows he’s not fit to go for a walk, and it costs him enough to reach the lift, only standing because he can press his weight against the wall, taking the journey downstairs to try to get the world to stop spinning. Somehow he manages to find a cab willing to take him away, even as he keeps pulling out paper tissues from his pockets to constantly blow his nose. He wonders when his lungs will feel spacious again. 

The cab driver is reasonably relieved when Arthur pays by card, and once he leaves the car, the first thing he does is dump all the used tissues in a nearby trash can, and does his best to straighten himself up as he climbs the steps to his father’s home. He wants very badly to lean against the door as he waits for it to open, after ringing in, but it feels wrong to do that in his father’s space.

“Arthur!” the door opens a few minutes later, Catrina looking at him with worry. “Come in, dear, it’s so cold outside, that can’t be good for you.” She says that, but it still takes a while for her to fully open the door and make room for him to get by, doing his best to stay upright. She puts a hand on his elbow and leads him to the living room, calling on a maid to make some tea.

Arthur sits down, letting his back sink into the cushions, head tilted back a bit to rest easier. His head is pounding, the journey having taken its toll on him, but he still does his best to sit straighter, and look at Catrina, who is gathering up papers on the small table in front of the couch.

“Look at this mess! Wedding plans, let me tell you, you have to put so much work into them! Especially in such a short time…”

“Short time?” Arthur feels like he should be helping her, but he can’t really make himself move. 

“You father wants us to get married as soon as possible, that romantic old darling,” Catrina explains, “and how can I blame him? I can hardly wait to be his wife!”

“Right,” Arthur says, but what she says doesn’t really get through to him. It seems out of place to call his father romantic, or even wanting to rush anything, but his head is hurting too much to dwell on it. 

“But you surely didn’t come over to listen to me babble on about seating arrangements! What brought you over? Uther is at Camelot.” Catrina puts the pile down at the end of the small table, far away from Arthur, face down, and sits down on the couch next to him, crossing her legs. “Did something happen?”

“I want to know about Sophia,” Arthur says, and he hates to admit his weaknesses, but he goes on anyway, “I don’t remember much about her, and haven’t heard from her since that night.”

“Oh, my poor niece,” Catrina sighs, shaking her head slightly, “She came by after her date with you. Her father got ill, living out of the country, and the poor thing had to go check on him. They’re in Switzerland.”

“Oh,” Arthur frowns a bit, and there’s something off about what Catrina just said, he feels it, but more than that he’s starting to feel something liquid slowly coming down his nose, so his focus stays on quickly getting another tissue and pressing it to his nose. “..will she come back?”

Catrina gives him a pitying look, her hand closing over his wrist, and smiles sadly at him. “I don’t know, dear. Her father is  _ very _ ill, he might not make it through.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Arthur offers, “is he your brother?”

“Hm?” Catrina gives him a confused look, blinking, before smiling, “Oh, no, no. His wife was, but she died many years ago, bless her soul.”

“My condolences,” Arthur says, “is Sophia alright? How can I talk to her?”

“She just has a lot of her plate, dear, you should let her be for the moment,” Catrina lets go of his wrist, and there’s a glint in her eye as she leans back, “but I’ll let her know you asked.”

“Thank you.”

Catrina seems to ponder things for a moment, before adding, “You really don’t remember her?”

“I don’t. I know she met me at the park where it happened, but that’s it.”

“Well,” Catrina pauses to grab the cup of tea that the maid came in to give her, “you shouldn’t worry too much about it. You two had barely met for the third time, and one of those instances was here with the whole family.”

Arthur gives a small nod, regretting it immediately, the movement almost making him feel his brain inside his skull.

Catrina pats his knee with her free hand. “Don’t be too hung up on it, Arthur. Now,” she’s holding her cup of tea with both hands again, leaning back on the couch, “enjoy your tea, I’m sure it will work wonders on you.”

Arthur grabs the cup, which is pleasantly warm, and takes a sip, the warm liquid smoothly going down his throat, easing the itch there a bit. 

“Good, isn’t it?” Catrina takes a sip of her own. “Now how about we get to know each other? We’re about to become family, after all.”

  
  


“Are you sure you’re ready to come back?” Leon asks again, and Arthur sighs loudly. It only bothers his lungs a little now.

“It’s been a week,” Arthur says, taking off his scarf. He keeps the jacket on, and the conversation is paused as Percy pulls him into a bear hug. “I’m fine,” he says, the sound muffled against Percy’s broad chest.

“Just glad to see you, friend,” Percy puts him down, and punches him lightly in the shoulder. Arthur staggers a bit, but he can blame that on Percy’s strength rather than his own health.

Arthur claps his arm, “You too, mate,” and he’s finally allowed back inside his own club.

He goes straight to the back rooms to avoid George, since the man, as thoughtful as he might be, has been overbearing with his worry. Once he’s at the back, Arthur relaxes, pleased to be in the familiar environment. It’s ridiculous to think so, but he has missed working.

He checks his papers, and the mail, but everything seemed to have been taken care of while he was gone. It’s good to see the business moving at ease without him, but at the same time, Arthur feels impotent. He brushes it from his mind, it’s after hours and he shouldn’t be working at this time, anyway. And that isn’t the reason he came by.

Arthur moves out of his office into the hall, strolling down the hallway and passing through several doors, until he reaches the one closest to the stage, knocking on it.

“Come in!” says a slightly familiar voice, and Arthur opens the door, getting in the green room.

Dragoon looks away from the mirror to see who it is, and he seems surprised to see Arthur. He can’t blame the old man, as Arthur has never made any attempt to meet him before, and it’s hardly the first time he performed on Arthur’s stage. But it’s one thing to be surprised, another to move as far away from Arthur as he can, and turn his back to him. 

Arthur frowns. “Is everything alright?”

“You can’t barge in on an old man like that!” comes the reply, in a voice more nasal than he had expected.

Not that he had expected anything that was happening at the moment. “Excuse me? I knocked.”

Dragoon scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, or so Arthur presumes, since he still can only look at his back. He wants to stride across the room and force Dragoon to face him properly, but it’s obvious the older man has some issues with Arthur, which can’t be stemmed from anything but how set against his shows he’s been.

He tries to not let it stop him from doing what he came here for. “I usually try to get to know the artists who perform here, so we can work better together.”

“Well, you’re a bit late for that, aren’t you, boy?” his voice rises, scratchy and angry, “I’m busy, so you go back to being a prat, it’s what you do best.”

“You can’t address me like that!”

“What kind of a damn fool of a question is that? I just did address you like that, so I beg to differ!”

Arthur can’t do much but stare at Dragoon, gaping in shock. “You--”

Dragoon turns around, and there’s something familiar in his face. “Well? Off you go! I have a show to prepare!”

“Now, listen here--” Arthur points a finger at him.

“Can’t an old man prepare his show in peace?” his voice rises again, incredulous and obviously angry. “I should have known! You are a spoilt, arrogant brat, with the brains of a monkey and the face of a toad!”

“You hold your tongue!” Arthur steps forward, his own voice rising.

“What’s going on here?” Morgana comes into the room, with a frown that drops as soon as she sees them. “Oh.”

“Time for the show,” Dragoon passes by faster than Arthur had thought he could, bumping his shoulder against Arthur’s. “Out of my way!”

Arthur staggers to the side, too surprised to react. Dragoon’s white hair flashes oddly as he moves out of the room, but Arthur doesn’t pay attention to it, too busy looking wide eyed at Morgana.

She looks speechless for a moment, before she straightens up, “He’s… a little grumpy. I should check on him.” and then she rushes off.

Arthur goes back to the door, looking at her back as she goes, “ _ A little grumpy _ ?”

But she doesn’t answer, disappearing quickly out of sight as she chases Dragoon. Arthur stands by the door for a moment, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Just as he decides to go after them, the show’s background music starts, and he figures that if he can’t go do something about what just happened, he might as well go get a drink.

Elyan is outraged for him when Arthur tells him what just happened, and joins him in glaring at Dragoon on the stage. Arthur has made up his mind, it doesn’t matter if his clients enjoy Dragoon’s show, or even if he himself had started to appreciate it. He can’t be disrespected like that, he’s the owner of the club. 

“Are you firing him?” Elyan asks, looking away from the stage. 

“I can’t let that pass,” Arthur agrees.

“Are you sure that is a wise choice, young Pendragon?” 

“I keep asking you to not call me that,” Arthur says, turning on the stool so he’s facing away from the stage, to look at Kilgharrah.

His investor ignores his reply. “Dragoon’s performance is good. Unseen until now, if you let go of him, others will profit from him instead.”

“Let them try,” Arthur says, unconcerned, “with a mouth like his, he’s lucky to last in any proper interview for more than five minutes.”

To think he had assumed Morgana didn’t have Arthur interview him because of the nature of his show, not because of his person. And how surprising it is to realize that he’ll be firing Dragoon for his manners rather than his magic show. Arthur holds back a sigh, motioning for Elyan to prepare him another drink. This is not the return to work he had been counting on.

“But you didn’t hire him to talk,” Kilgharrah adds, as he pulls a metal case out of his pocket, opening it to reveal his cigars, taking one out and tapping it on the counter, leaning to his side as he pulls out a lighter from another pocket. “You hired him to perform, and he does it in silence.”

“He was disrespectful,” Elyan says with a frown, as he puts the glass on the counter, pouring the drink.

“And I also keep telling you you’re not allowed to smoke in here,” Arthur warns, but Kilgharrah lights his cigar anyway so Arthur has to take it from his hand, putting it out. “You know, this is why my father had you working in the basement.”

“You don’t need him to show you respect, you need him to perform well,” Kilgharrah takes the cigar back, frowning as he puts it back in the case. “And he delivers that.”

“I actually need both.”

“You’re thinking of your ego rather than your business,” Kilgharrah says, in a stern tone. He’s almost looking down at Arthur, which only builds onto his anger. It’s not wrong of him to fire an employee that disrespects him, anyone would agree, so Kilgharrah has no reason to be disappointed with him.

“I‘m thinking of both,” Arthur replies, “there has to be consequences. I can’t have employees calling me dumb as a monkey, it’s just common sense. I have to be respected.”

“I did not think you were this much like your father.”

“If I were more like him, Dragoon wouldn’t have set a foot on my stage in the first place,” Arthur replies, and gets up. A look around tells him that neither Morgana nor Merlin are in sight even though Dragoon is performing, and something twists in his stomach. He hands the drink to Elyan and asks him, “Do you know where Leon is?”

“In his office, I think,” Elyan tips his head back, finishing the drink in one gulp.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Arthur says, and turns to give Kilgharrah a nod, before going to find Leon. He’s not waiting around for Dragoon to finish so he can fire him in person. 

  
  
  


“I’m not opening the door for you, Morgana,” Arthur says in the intercom after the bell to his flat rings for the third time. “I warned you I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” comes the reply, but it’s not Morgana, “that’s why she gave me your address.”

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, after a pause.

“Yeah. Are you letting me in?”

Arthur only hesitates for a moment, before he presses the button to open the door downstairs. He goes around the flat to make sure everything is in place, quickly putting a plate into the washing machine. Once he hears the lift arrive at his floor, he goes back to the front door, opening it just in time to see Merlin stumbling out of the lift, a bag in his hand.

Morgana knows just how to work Arthur around, because smiling at him as he regains his footing, Merlin reminds him why Arthur had hesitated over firing Dragoon. He moves back inside the flat. “Come on in.”

Merlin doesn’t hide his curiosity at all as he comes in, head turning as he looks around the living room. Arthur lets him take his fill, his eyes roaming on Merlin as he looks around Arthur’s flat. He realizes that it doesn’t matter what he might or might not know about Sophia, because overall, he can’t have been as interested in her as he is in Merlin, who stops now in front of a particular painting, not a great work by any means, but one that stands out nonetheless, being one of the few images on his wall that isn’t abstract. 

He glances at Arthur, who is standing next to him. “Who’s the artist?”

There is nothing obviously special about the work, it’s a simple landscape, and Arthur, with all his years of looking at it, still hasn’t figured out if it’s an island, or a lake before a hill, due to the mist painted over making the matter harder. It’s not a work of great talent, but it makes Arthur feel something.

“Morgana,” he answers. He leaves out that he hung it a little more than two days ago, picking it up at his father’s home when he last visited him, that the painting was still sitting in a corner when he visited his and Morgana’s rooms. That the most he could remember about his previous visit there being hands on his own, a breath on his lips, and feeling out of step.

“I didn’t know she painted,” Merlin says.

“She doesn’t do it often.”

Merlin looks away from the painting, looking troubled. “Arthur…”

“You came over to convince me to hire Dragoon again,” he says, guessing what Merlin was about to say. “Well, save your breath. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

“Wait, Arthur--”

“He insulted me, Merlin,” Arthur says, “honest to God insulted me, and I can’t have employees disrespecting me like that. What could you say to justify what he did?”

“I can explain it,” Merlin says, turning to face him properly. “I can.”

“Alright,” Arthur motions for him to continue with a hand. “Carry on.”

“...I’m Dragoon,” Merlin says, looking at him nervously, “I was hiding it from you, and when you came into the room I panicked. I’m sorry.”

And Arthur can only look back at him as he registers what Merlin is saying, and then can’t help but laugh, head thrown back. Merlin is looking offended, and about to reply, but Arthur can’t stop himself. He grins at Merlin, and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to his side.

“Merlin, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m telling the truth! Here, I even brought the beard,” Merlin, leans into Arthur as he puts a hand inside the bag, pulling out a long white beard.

“You went that far to make me believe that?” Arthur asks, amused. “Merlin, really.  It’s sweet of you to vouch for Dragoon like that, and I know you’re a fan, but that’s pushing it.”

“But I am! Arthur, have you ever seen me and him at the same time?”

“No, but I also haven’t seen you and the Queen in the same room, are you her as well?”

“I don’t disguise myself as an old lady!”

“Right, only as an old man, is it?”

“Arthur, I’m being honest.”

“Merlin, you’re not Dragoon. I would know.” Arthur says, amused. “You must think I’m stupid.”

“Right now?” Merlin replies, eyebrows high on his forehead, “I do.”

Arthur laughs again, and ruffles Merlin’s hair, fingers moving slowly as he moves his hand down, onto the back of Merlin’s neck, and his thumb presses a bit to the side in a small stroke.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he says, pulling Merlin along as he leads them to the kitchen, “are you staying? We could watch a movie.”

Merlin looks like he wasn’t done talking, but decides to drop the matter for now. “You can cook? Now this I’ve got to see.” He smiles, and he doesn’t push away from Arthur’s touch, and that’s very much a win.

He drops his hand once he moves to the fridge, opening it. “It’s not today that you’ll see me cook, Merlin,” he says, taking out a tupperware with food he’d prepared in advance.

“Another night, then.”

Arthur is smiling as he slowly closes the door. When he turns to Merlin again, opening the containers as he walks towards the microwave, his face is under control. “Pass me two plates, Merlin. They’re in the first cupboard on the left.”

“I thought I was guest at your house, not a servant,” Merlin says.

“You’re both. Now, two plates,” Arthur puts down the containers on the counter. 

“Yes, sire,” Merlin couldn’t sound less obedient if he tried, Arthur’s sure of it, and it makes him laugh.

They pick a movie to watch as they eat, and the whole incident with Dragoon is out of Arthur’s head as they crash on his couch, moving his legs to rest them on Merlin’s lap, ignoring his complaints as he grabs the remote, putting on the movie. Eventually, Merlin’s hand rests on his leg, fingers curling around it, and Arthur can’t pay attention to the movie at all anymore, heart thumping loudly in his ears as he focuses on nothing but Merlin’s hand, on his profile lit by the television. It’s not just the skin under Merlin’s touch that is warm now, the feeling also blooming in his chest.

Merlin glances at him and his face shifts, smiling gently. Arthur feels frozen, caught staring, but he can’t make himself look away, and he can’t move either, as much as the image of him reaching up, hand curling on the back of Merlin’s neck to pull him down for a kiss, keeps running through his mind. Merlin doesn’t look away either, and for a long moment the film is forgotten in the background. Arthur is now moving without noticing it, propping himself up on an elbow, then on a hand, his eyes on Merlin’s lips as he gets almost to his eye level. He’s positioned so it’s almost like he’s sitting on Merlin, his thighs probably heavy on his lap. Merlin’s hand rests a bit above his knee.

The sound of an explosion coming from the movie has them both jump slightly, Merlin’s hand snapping away quickly from Arthur’s thigh, both breaking eye contact at last to look at the screen. He feels ridiculous, his heart is pounding, and he can’t make himself look back at Merlin. 

“Why are there always car chases in movies?” Merlin asks. His hand doesn’t go back to Arthur’s leg.

Arthur moves again, to sit straight on the couch, legs off Merlin, although their shoulders brush now. He doesn’t pull away, and neither does Merlin. “They build up anticipation,” he answers, eyes on the screen, not really knowing who’s chasing whom, “and they’re fun to watch.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Merlin says, shifting slightly, and Arthur is all too aware of the leg pressed against his own.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Merlin answers too quickly, the corner of his mouth tugging up, “only that you like car chases.”

Arthur nudges him lightly, bumping his shoulder against Merlin’s, who turns to him, flashing him a smile. He knows when he’s being mocked. “Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”


	7. A Journey in the Dark

Just like last time, now that Arthur has fired Dragoon he keeps getting approached by people who want him back, but at least it’s not his staff this time. Well, except for one person, he corrects himself, as he hears the clicking of Morgana’s heels getting louder as she catches up to him.

“Give him another chance, Arthur,” Morgana says, walking fast to keep up with him. “He wasn’t expecting you and panicked. He’ll apologise if you give him the chance.”

“He’ll apologise if I give him his job back?” Arthur turns to her.

“No, if you give him the chance to talk and explain.”

“There’s hardly anything to explain. Now go do your job, You have to select the people to audition for Monday nights.”

“Arthur, you’re being daft.”

“That’s enough, Morgana,” Arthur stops walking, “I let Dragoon perform against my wishes, I tried to have a conversation with him and he insulted me. I am not in the wrong here. Go back to work.”

He leaves the staff area, getting to the bar. He’s wrong in thinking that is the last time he has to argue about Dragoon, because he’s approached right away by Merlin and Morgana’s friend, Gwaine.

“Look, mate,” Gwaine says, blocking his path, “you’ve got to change your mind. For Merlin.”

“Merlin’s fine,” Arthur rubs his forehead with a hand, and stops once he looks at Gwaine. “Were you going somewhere?”

Gwaine glances down at the football uniform he’s wearing, and shrugs, “Came from practice.”

“Are you any good?”

Gwaine was about to go back to the argument, but he pauses, looking back at Arthur, a smirk growing on the side of his face, as he turns his head, pulling hair off of his forehead with the movement. “Better than you, I bet.”

“Really? Would you like to put that theory to the test?”

Gwaine eyes him up and down, clearly just as amused as Arthur. “Give me a date and place, mate.”

“My team practices in the local field on Thursdays,” Arthur says, crossing his arms, “at four.”

“Sure thing,” Gwaine grins, “if I win, you get the show back on.”

Arthur laughs. “If you win, I’ll consider it. And if I win, you won’t ask again.”

“Alright, bring it on, princess!”

“If I win,” Arthur adds, “you don’t get to call me that again either.”

“If you win,” Gwaine tilts his head, showing his teeth in a wide smirk, “then I’ll consider it.”

Arthur laughs, and they shake on it. He clasps Gwaine’s shoulder, feeling for the first time that he might get along with Merlin’s friend. 

“Join me for a beer, mate?”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees, surprising himself, “on me.”

“You're going to regret saying that,” Gwaine throws an arm over his shoulder, leading him to the bar. Arthur has the feeling he’ll agree with that statement, but for the moment he just laughs.

  
  


Wednesday afternoon has Arthur sitting with Leon at one of the tables, watching groups getting ready for auditions from the sidelines as they wait for Morgana to show up. After Dragoon, he's not leaving the whole decision process to her again. At least not yet.

And then she walks in, arm in arm with Merlin, who's using his free hand to gesture what he's saying, a smile on his face, and Morgana laughs, pulling him closer still and kissing his cheek.

And a lot of things click in his mind, like how when he first met Merlin, Morgana had been flirting with him, and how she had known him already, even though he doesn't know how or for how long. The night he drowned, they were on a walk in the park, on their own at night. At the same time he did the exact same while on a date.

He looks at Leon, who’s still for a moment, eyes wide and distressed as he looks back at Arthur, before he composes himself, and Arthur knows they've both realized the same thing. He thinks back to Monday night, when he almost kissed Merlin and he’s filled with shame.

“Sorry I'm late,” Morgana says, finally letting go of Merlin and sitting next to Leon.

“Hey,” Merlin says, sitting down between Morgana and Arthur, pulling the chair a bit away from him so he can face the stage as well.

“Don't you have work to do?” Arthur asks him, ignoring the twist in his chest. Leon isn’t doing as well, quiet at his side, but he’s been interested in Morgana far longer than Arthur has even known Merlin. 

“I was working, but Morgana insisted that I had to be here, and Gaius couldn’t say no to her,” Merlin says, sharing a look with Morgana.

“Of course,” Morgana, swings her hair off her shoulder, “it wasn’t hard to make them see reason.”

“I bet it wasn’t. And speaking of work,” Arthur turns to Leon, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking at him. “You should go back to yours, we’ll finish discussing this after the auditions.”

Leon frowns, “You said--” he stops as he notices Arthur’s look, and hesitates for a moment, but continues as he glances at Merlin and Morgana. “You said I should oversee this with you.”

Leon doesn’t want to leave him alone with them, Arthur realizes, and is filled with fondness for his friend, but that doesn’t mean it makes sense for them both to stay and suffer through it. “I’ll call you over if we need a tiebreaker,” he says, “now go back to your actual job.”

Leon’s shoulder sags under Arthur’s hand, “Very well. I’ll be in my office.” Arthur slaps his arm as he drops his hand, nodding at Leon as he gets up. 

“Arthur, let him stay,” Morgana says, and Arthur sees Leon hesitate again, so he shakes his head firmly. 

“I don’t pay him to sit around judging people, Morgana,” he says, motioning for Leon to keep going, “that’s what I have you for.”

“And you do it for free,” Morgana replies. Merlin laughs, and Arthur might watch him do it a little, before realizing what he’s doing, looking away guiltily. “Merlin, darling, go to Leon’s chair, so you don’t have your back to the show.”

Merlin does so, and Arthur doesn’t look at him, trying not to feel even guiltier about his feelings. Trying not to feel so damn pleased that Merlin is sitting closer to him now. He sorts the papers lying on the table, and turns to Morgana. 

“Can we start now?”

Morgana nods and calls the first group to the stage. They give each group ten minutes to show what they’ve got. He and Morgana work as team, they’re synced into this, dividing the topics to analyse between them, asking questions, and judging what they’re being presented with. Merlin, apart from some snarky comments, isn’t doing much but looking a bit bummed out. Arthur isn’t sure why exactly Morgana thought it’d be a good idea to have him see them replacing Dragoon, but he can’t say he minds the company.

They take a break one hour later, still with half of the auditions to go, and move things to the bar, to discuss what they’ve seen so far. Arthur goes behind the counter, as Elyan isn’t there during the afternoons, especially when they close for these events, and grabs each of them a beer, opening them and handing one to Morgana and another to Merlin. Morgana makes a face at the lack of a glass, but she’s not wasting the drink.

“I thought you’d bring more magicians,” Merlin says, sitting on a stool.

“It’s hard to find a magician at Dragoon’s level,” Morgana replies with a sigh, giving Merlin a look Arthur doesn’t understand.

“And that experiment failed,” Arthur goes around the counter to join them. “We’ve got some good performances so far, but we need to narrow them down.”

“Yes, and we need to discuss that but first,” Morgana puts down her bottle, and gives Merlin another hard look, “I need to go to the ladies room, excuse me.”

Arthur is nervous as she goes, leaving him alone with Merlin. He can’t help but think of his embarrassing behaviour, and how dumb he was to not see what was going on right in front of him all along. He puts himself in check, because even if he won’t be anything else but a friend to Merlin, that’ll be enough. Arthur will get over him and they’ll stay good friends.

“If I wanted to go on stage, would I have to audition?” Merlin asks. “Or are my inside contacts enough to put me up there?”

Arthur laughs, “Doesn’t matter how chummy you get with us, Merlin, I won’t have you do card tricks on my stage.”

“Then why on Earth do I put up with your prattiness?”

“Hang on,” Arthur frowned. 

Merlin just smiles, dimples on his cheeks, and Arthur wishes that wasn’t enough to shut him up. “Actually,” he plays a bit with the ridiculous red scarf he favours, eyes downcast to show those long eyelashes for a moment, before he locks eyes again with Arthur. ”I’ve been thinking…”

“Careful with that, Merlin,” Arthur can’t help himself, “I know it can be too much for you.”

“You know what, changed my mind. I won’t say it now.”

“Come on,  _ Merlin _ , say what you were going to say.”

“No. You don’t deserve it, I was obviously wrong,” Merlin says, but he’s doing a bad job at hiding a smile.

“ _ Merlin _ .”

Merlin smiles fully then, and drums his fingers on the counter this time, looking down again. His cheeks redden a bit, and he’s still smiling as he looks again at Arthur. Arthur waits for him to speak, but Merlin doesn’t, and he finds himself in another moment of looking into Merlin’s eyes in silence. His eyes drop to Merlin’s mouth, recalling what he almost did last time that had happened, and he leans away to stop himself from doing it again. 

“Out with it, Merlin.”

Merlin is obviously hesitant, embarrassed, even, Arthur realises. “Do you want--”

“Excuse me, you’re Arthur Pendragon, aren’t you?” 

Arthur shares a look with Merlin before he turns to see a mousy looking man with a mustache, standing next to them as he looks at him. Arthur recognises him as one of the artists who performed for them in the past hour, an interesting show with ravens and projections. Unorthodox, but compelling. “Yes. You’re... Cornelius SIgan, right?”

“That’s my stage name. I’m Cedric,” he holds out a hand for him.

Arthur shakes it. “Right,” he says, “what can I help you with?”

“Let me just say, I love the club,” Cedric says, and his other hand comes to cover Arthur’s, his touch soft as he makes sure to look him in the eye, “and I’ve admired you for a long time. It’s an honour to meet you.”

Merlin snorts, and Arthur is very pleased as he leans in slightly, his hand still in Cedric’s. “The honour, Merlin.  _ The honour _ .”

Merlin puffs out, crossing his arms, and doesn’t look as amused as Arthur thought he’d be.

“The work you did with Fight Dragons was incredible. You have a good ear,” Cedric leans closer, “and great eyes.”

“Well,” Arthur wasn't quite expecting that, and he gives Cedric a look over, not pulling his hand away from his hold. He's not exactly his type, but he's not bad looking either and it might be just what he needs to get Merlin out of his head. “You obviously have good taste.”

“We could discuss our tastes at some other point,” Cedric says, looking away to Merlin for a moment, “maybe tonight?”

“You know where to find me,” Arthur says, and Cedric is all smiles as he finally lets go of Arthur’s hand.

“I’ll see you then. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Arthur leans back, resting an elbow on the counter as Cedric leaves, and he looks back at Merlin, who’s glaring at the other’s back. Merlin turns to Arthur, and his frown doesn’t lessen a little. “You know what he’s doing, right?”

“Hitting on me?” Arthur replies. “Yes, Merlin, I did notice that.”

Merlin gestures to where Cedric left, “He’s obviously trying to use you to get a show!”

Arthur frowns as well, leaning a bit away from Merlin. “Obviously?”

“Yes!” Merlin raises his eyebrows as he looks at him, “what else could it be? He just auditioned for you!”

“What else? Oh, I don’t know, Merlin,” Arthur’s heartbeat sounds louder in his chest, something twisting in it at Merlin’s words, “maybe he’s simply interested in me. It shouldn’t be to hard to think of that!”

“He’s trying to use you, and if you weren’t such a clod you’d see that!” Merlin leans in, his voice slightly louder.

“A what?” Arthur asks, as calmly as he can, but he’s just as angry as Merlin seems to be. Merlin doesn’t reply, regretting the insult, and Arthur sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe he wants both, Merlin, and I might not mind that if it means I can use him as well.”

“Oh,” Merlin lets out, and the fight leaves him too. They look at each other in silence again, and Arthur wants to curl his hand on Merlin’s jaw, he wants to press a thumb to that cheekbone, to those lips, he wants to be able to take that dejected look from Merlin’s eyes. He wants too much.

Instead he grabs his beer again, taking a long sip. “Morgana’s taking too long, we need to get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, and slips off of the stool, “I’ll go get her.”

He rushes off towards the bathrooms, and Artur lets himself watch him go. Just this once.

Merlin leaves the club after the auditions, leaving Arthur and Morgana to discuss the performances they’ve seen during the afternoon, They settle on a table as George shows up, clearing the space so they can open up for the evening. The fact they’re on their own again is blatantly obvious, and Arthur tries not to comment on it. Morgana doesn’t feel any need for restraints.

“What happened? Everything was fine until the break, and then Merlin got all quiet and left.”

“He had to go back to work,” Arthur says.

“Arthur, please. He wouldn’t miss the chance to get off of work,” she says, raising an eyebrow, and Arthur hates how she’s so sure of it, how she knows Merlin better than he does. And more than that, he hates to feel jealous.

“How did you two meet?” he asks, and he knows it’s not really changing the subject, but it’s something he’s been keen on knowing. He supposes it’s less painful than asking when they started dating, because if it was after he met Merlin… well, he’d rather not know that.

“I never told you?” Morgana looks at him in surprise, and as Arthur shakes his head, she continues, “well, remember those nightmares I used to have? One day I was coming over, walking through the neighborhood, and I found Gaius’s shop. Merlin was a darling, and he got me exactly what I needed. I kept returning to buy more, and we started talking, and well,” Morgana smiles a bit slyly at him, “you know how easy it is to get along with him.”

“And you’ve been sleeping better?”

Morgana nods. “Most nights.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and he means it. He remembers the trouble Morgana had with sleeping since their teenage years, and it’s good to know she’s doing better. And Morgana brought Merlin into his life, even if not completely the way he’d have preferred. He’ll take what he can get.

“And what happened with the two of you?”

“Nothing,” Arthur says. He hesitates for a second, but he really doesn’t want to explain what happened to her, especially when he himself can’t understand Merlin’s reactions to it. “We need to get back to work.”

“Arthur, there’s something obviously wrong.”

“If you think there’s something wrong, then ask your boyfriend,” Arthur says, and hates how petulant he sounds.

“My boyfriend? What on Earth are you talking about, Arthur?”

“What do you think?” Arthur crosses his arms.

Morgana prepares to reply, but what he said seems to have clicked in her head, because she starts laughing, pressing her fingers to her lips to hide it, leaning forward. “Arthur, my darling, darling, daft brother,” she says, putting a hand on his arm, “you are incredibly obtuse, aren’t you?”

“Morgana,” Arthur frowns.

“ _ Arthur _ ,” she replies, obviously holding back her laughter, “Merlin and I aren’t dating.”

“Oh,” Arthur lets out, and feels all the tension he didn’t know he was holding just leaking out of his body at once.

“It’s like dealing with children,” Morgana sighs, “why are you always so clueless? Don’t answer that,” she says as he opens his mouth to defend himself. “Merlin and I are good friends, and that’s it.”

“Good. I mean-- that’s… nice.”

Morgana’s pitying look will be the death of him. “Arthur, darling, if I  _ was _ dating him, don’t you think I’d have said something about how the two of you are constantly flirting with each other?” 

“I,” Arthur feels his cheeks burning up, his back stiff, “we are  _ not _ !”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you are,” Morgana says.

“We’re,” Arthur takes a deep breath, sitting straighter, “we’re getting back to work, Morgana.” 

“Arthur, you’re obviously interested in him,” Morgana says, “and he in you.”

Arthur takes another deep breath, his eyes set on the table as he asks, “Do you even know if he’s… into men?”

“I know he dated Freya at some point, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it?” Morgana says, and then adds, frowning a bit, “What is it with you liking my friends, Arthur? It’s Gwen all over again,  _ ‘Do you think she likes me too? Are you sure she doesn’t like that guy instead?’ _ ” her voice gets a bit high pinched as she does a horrible impression of him, “I swear to God, I’m never introducing you to anyone ever again.” 

“It’s not like that,” Arthur says, glancing at her, the most he can do to provide a bit of eye contact.

“Stop, stop talking. Every time you open your mouth in this conversation you become even more embarrassing to listen to,” Morgana says, holding up a hand. “You like Merlin, I’m sure he likes you too, make a move on the poor boy so we can all stop witnessing this sad show. Now,” she gets up, “I really need a drink, and I bet you do too. So I’m going to fetch us a bottle, and we’re going back to work, and after that, you’re going to stop being an idiot. Does that sound good?”

Arthur has several points to protest in everything Morgana just say, but what comes out is “..I could use a drink.”

“Finally something sensible comes out of your mouth,” she says, and goes over to the bar.

Arthur leaves the club right after he and Morgana pick the new act for Monday nights. He closes his jacket tightly as he leaves the building, the cold air hitting harder than he thought, dusk settling in over the sky. He pulls out his phone, going through his contacts, and presses his phone to his ear as he waits for Merlin to answer, listening to the dial tones as he walks towards his car.

“Hello,” comes Merlin’s voice, hesitant, “Arthur?”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, stopping by the side of his car, key on his hand, “are you busy? Thought tonight could be the time I finally show you how I cook.”

“Aren’t you going to meet with Cedric tonight?” Merlin asks.

“I don’t want to be with him,” Arthur says, feeling his heart pounding stronger in his chest, “I’d rather have you insult my cooking skills, for some reason.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin says after a small pause, “if you’re going to be bad at it I think I’d rather pass and have a decent meal by myself.”

“You get to pick the movie this time,” he offers.

“Even if it’s one without car chases?”

“Whatever you chose, Merlin,” Arthur says, amused.

“Even if it’s a Barbie movie?” he can practically hear Merlin smiling, “the pinkest of them all?”

“That’s your choice, Merlin, but be warned, I will mock you for it,” he says, chuckling despite himself.

“Then I guess I can handle a bit of food poisoning,” Merlin says.

“How merciful of you,” Arthur says, unlocking his car at last. “Text me your address and I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

“Take your time,” Merlin says, “I want to pick just the right movie for you.”

Arthur is smiling as he gets in the car, and as he reads Merlin’s text, giving him his address and insulting him at the same time, and only by the time he reaches the closest supermarket can he gets his face under control, his cheeks hurting. His step is lighter as he picks out ingredients, and when he pulls out his wallet to pay for his groceries he can’t hold back another smile, looking fondly at the card he’s been keeping there, the king of hearts with dollophead written across it. 


	8. Queer Lodgings

“What do you think of  [ _ Barbie, a Fashion Fairytale _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-ogZ4Yks7w) ?” Merlin asks.

Merlin has his back turned to him, elbows propped up on the kitchen counter as he leans in closer to his laptop’s screen. Arthur turns away from the onions he’s been chopping, and looks at him, eyes going from the back of Merlin’s hair down to his ass. He quickly turns back to the onions, only now with both his eyes and his cheeks burning. He clears his throat before replying, “I’ve never heard of that movie, Merlin, I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“Barbie uses magic to save a fashion show,” Merlin explains, “I think. What matters is that it has a lot of pink and glitter and musical numbers, I hope.”

“Wouldn’t want to waste my time watching any movie without those important factors,” Arthur says, in a deadpan tone, as he finishes chopping the onions, pushing them to the corner of the board and then reaching for the garlic. 

“Exactly,” Merlin says, “so I’m going to load it now to make sure we can watch it right after you finish whatever you’re making. I just hope I don’t get sick.”

“Your faith in me is astounding, Merlin,” Arthur says, as he slices the garlic. “I suppose you wouldn’t rather take over and cook this yourself?”

“No, I think I’d rather watch you work for once. It’s not like you’ll intentionally poison me, right?”

“Getting more tempted by the second,” Arthur says, mouth pulling into a smile.

Merlin just laughs, and Arthur watches him do it as subtly as he can, pausing what he’s doing. Then he goes to season the meat, holding back any reaction that might be visible. He heats up a frying pan, and goes to check on the pasta he has boiling. Merlin comes around, trying to peek over his shoulder.

“Bolognese?” Merlin asks, “and here I thought you’d cook me something worthy of a restaurant.”

“I’m not a chef, Merlin,” Arthur says, pressing the spaghetti down so it’s fully submerged, “and if you have some professional recipe that can be done without me spending hours in the kitchen, then go ahead.”

“But I’m not going to cook,” Merlin says. “You only came here because you said you’d do it.”

“Then I’m not going to regret cooking you a bad meal,” Arthur replies, before adding the meat to the frying pan.

“Prat,” Merlin says, leaning against the counter, watching him stir the meat.

“I’m going to let that one slide, Merlin,” Arthur says, trying to sound serious, “but you should think twice before insulting the one cooking your meal.”

Merlin is all smiles, and obviously doesn’t listen to him at all, because he spends the entire cooking time following Arthur around the kitchen and making comments about it, but he’s more teasing than insulting, so Arthur lets that slide too, telling him to set the table.

Arthur puts the food in a single dish, places it on the table, and Merlin, coming over to look at it, stumbles over his own feet, tipping the saltshaker in his hand and pouring it all over the food. They both freeze, staring at the salt melting onto the hot meal. Then Merlin rushes to it, grabbing the fallen lid and taking the handle out of Arthur’s hand.

“Don’t worry, I can fix this!” he says, but as he tries to remove the salt, he just makes things worse, mixing it further into the food.

“Merlin, you idiot,” Arthur grabs his wrist, to stop him, and grabs one of the knives on the table, trying to scrape out the piles of salt. It spreads it a bit further over the food, but it’s not as disastrous as what Merlin was doing, pouring what he can onto a napkin. 

“Arthur,” Merlin is shifting his weight as he hovers over Arthur’s shoulder, hands twisting together, brows furrowed, “I’m--”

“Maybe it’s not that bad,” Arthur says, and grabs a plate, putting some of the pasta on it. He’s hesitant as he takes up a fork, and pauses for a moment, before quickly shoving it into his mouth, wincing at the strong flavour. He gags a little, but goes on to chew and swallow it, shuddering a bit, reaching for the water.

And Merlin laughs.

Arthur glares at him, and takes a large sip from his glass, before putting it down, and smiling sweetly at Merlin instead. “Look at me! I’m being rude! Here I am, stuffing my face with this delicious meal, when you’re hungry too! Come on,” he pats the chair, smiling at Merin, “take a seat.”

He moves Merlin around so he’s sitting on the chair, and puts one hand on the table, the other on the back of Merlin’s chair as he leans in, his breath almost on Merlin’s hair as he tells him firmly, “Eat,” and it almost comes out like an order. 

Merlin shudders slightly, doing as he’s told without a complaint, and there’s something oddly pleasant about that, making Arthur’s fingers curl harder on the back of his chair. He watches Merlin wrap the spaghetti around his fork, making a face as he leans over and brings it to his mouth, almost gagging at the salty taste of it.

Arthur hums pleasantly, a smirk showing on his face as he leans in as well, looking over Merlin’s shoulder to watch his reaction.

“Hm,” Merlin lets out, pressing a hand to his mouth as he forces himself to chew it, “it’s actually pretty tasty,” he says, and it sounds so forced that Arthur has to hold back a laugh.

“Well,” Arthur’s voice is like honey as he grabs the tongs and puts more food on Merlin’s plate, “good. There’s plenty of more.”

“How about,” Merlin says, reaching for the glass of water, but Arthur holds it back, “we order some food?”

“You’re paying,” Arthur says, “I already paid for this delicious meal you so thoughtfully ruined.”

Merlin nods quickly, looking pleadingly at him as he holds his hand out for the water, and  Arthur relents, handing it to him, eyes on Merlin’s eyelashes as he closes his eyes again, taking long sips. And he’d be very content in watching Merlin drink for longer, but he doesn’t want to be caught staring again. 

Arthur gets up again, taking his phone out of his trousers’ pocket. “I’ll order chinese.”

Merlin gets up as well, frowning as he looks at their ruined meal. “...I really wanted to try it out.”

“Next time,” Arthur says, pressing the phone to his ear, “as long as you keep your mouth shut about me poisoning you.”

“Or maybe I just saved myself from an early death,” Merlin looks at him, slowly smiling.

Arthur nudges him slightly with his free hand, pushing him slightly away. Merlin grins and does the same back to him, and Arthur almost stumbles, before he shifts his stance, preparing to reach him fast. Merlin grins as he moves away, and Arthur gives a few quick steps after him, chasing after him. Merlin laughs, and Arthur feels himself grinning as well, but stops abruptly as the chinese place answers the phone, placing an order for both of them, and Merlin goes off to throw away the ruined meal. 

Arthur flops down on the couch once he finishes the call, “Set up the movie, will you?” he orders, “I’d like to see whatever you’ve picked up to prove to me you’re not so uncultured after all.”

“Hmm, yes, a Barbie movie is the perfect choice,” Merlin goes and gets his computer. He connects it to the television screen, and puts the movie on before settling down on the couch next to Arthur, their thighs touching. Neither pulls away.

Arthur frowns, however, as the opening starts. This movie isn’t animated at all, and Jesse Eisenberg’s face shows up, and as Arthur opens his mouth to question it, his eyes widen instead, as a deck of cards is shuffled from one hand to the other much like Merlin did that one time Arthur asked him for card tricks. He turns to Merlin, who smiles sheepishly at him.

“ _ Merlin _ .”

“Surprise?” Merlin says, his face pulling to one side, before adding quickly, “look, it’s a compromise! It’s not a Barbie movie, it still has some magic,  _ and _ I picked one with car chasing scenes, so you can’t really complain!”

“What movie is this?” Arthur asks.

“You don’t know?” Merlin looks at him, surprised, “it’s  _ Now You See Me _ . It came out a few years ago.”

“It’s about magicians, Merlin,” Arthur replies, frowning as he notices someone being hypnotised on screen. It unsettles him, as those versions of magicians always have, but it disturbs him now more than usual, seeing someone’s will be taken away so easily, especially since the poor woman doesn’t remember it afterwards. He knows magic had nothing to do with it, but it makes him think of his drowning.

“You’ll like this one,” Merlin says, a hand settling on Arthur’s knee, and he loses his will to fight.

“I suppose. At least it’s not Barbie,” he says instead, turning back to the screen, and he just knows Merlin’s beaming at him.

He tries to watch the movie in silence, not really wanting to like it, but not wanting to displease Merlin either, but he has to speak up as the story starts to unravel, “Merlin, they’re con artists. They only trick people and steal, how did you think this would make me like magic tricks?”

“Well,” Merlin says, as the magicians are literally arrested and interrogated for robbing a bank, “hum. They’re not keeping the money? So they’re like.. Robin Hood but with magic. Which is kind of good!”

“Sometimes I wonder what goes through your head, Merlin.”

Merlin just nudges, “Just pay attention to the movie, will you? The tricks are really cool.”

And Arthur has to agree they look interesting, even if there’s nothing really magical about it. He tries to go back to being quiet, until a scene in an airplane comes up, where two agents are passing time together, one of them being obviously set against magic tricks, and the other trying to convince him of how fun they are by performing one for him.

“Merlin,” he says.

“What?”

“They’re us,” he says, leaning a bit forward as the french interpol agent does a card trick to her partner. “Look, at them, Merlin. He doesn’t like magic tricks and she does the thing you do about how magical the world becomes. They’re us!”

He turns his head to see Merlin blushing deeply, shifting slightly on his side, and it’s not the reaction Arthur was expecting, but it’s one that appeals to him a lot, moving so his side is pressed against Merlin’s.

“...yeah,” Merin says, but he doesn’t sound as amused as Arthur is by the fact. 

Arthur bumps his shoulder on Merlin’s. “Except without the insults.”

Merlin does chuckle at that, bumping back.

They pause the movie when the doorbell rings, and Arthur watches Merlin move to the front door, getting their food and paying for it, before he sits down at the couch, handing him one of the packages and some chopsticks.

Arthur opens it, and starts eating, still watching Merlin as he moves to press play, but he doesn’t go through with it. Merlin smiles as a rabbit comes into view, the sound of claws clicking on the wooden floor as it moves closer, stopping a few steps away from them.

“..Merlin?”

Merlin grins “That’s Aithusa.” He holds out a hand for the fluffy white rabbit, who quickly comes to his side, lifting itself onto its back paws to sniff his fingers, lowering again afterwards. Arthur frowns a bit at the bunny, who looks oddly familiar. He suddenly remembers Dragoon’s early shows at Excalibur, which featured a white rabbit from time to time, but he dismisses it. All rabbits look the same, after all. 

Merlin pets the bunny’s head tenderly, barely needing two fingers to do it, his touch light and careful. It’s such a sweet image that Arthur feels immensely fond of, fingers curling as he holds back the urge to dig them into Merlin’s hair, spreading against his scalp. Instead, he crosses his arm and says “Maybe we should have the rabbit for dinner, instead of ordering out.”

Merlin glares at him. “She’s not food, you prat.”

“Shouldn’t she be in a cage in any case?” Arthur asks, glancing around for one, “can rabbits be potty trained? And don’t they nibble on cables?”

“Aithusa is very smart,” Merlin pets her, sounding like a doting father, “and she understands more than you think.”

“Does she now?”

“More than you.”

“Merlin.”

“I do mean it,” Merlin says, smiling. “Look, tap your foot.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Arthur gives out a loud sigh, and does so, tapping his foot on the ground. Aithusa’s ears perk up, and she thumps the floor again after a few moments. Arthur lets out a laugh, surprised, and Aithusa rushes off, going out of sight.

Merlin grins, ducking his head to see what he’s doing as he picks what to eat from his package. “Do it again.”

Arthur obeys, tapping his foot, Merlin eating as he waits, and just as Arthur grabs a  hold of more food with his chopsticks, they hear a loud thumping sound coming somewhere from the left. 

Arthur taps his foot again right away. “I don’t see how that makes her smarter than me,” he says, before eating.

“It means she’s smart,” Merlin says, “and any kind of smart is smarter than you.”

“Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” Arthur says, and Merlin chuckles, before putting the movie back on. Aithusa thumps the floor again, and Arthur does the same unconsciously, at least until Merlin turns to him with a wide smile.

“Shut up,” he says again.

“I didn’t say anything,” Merlin says, and he shifts, sliding down a bit on the couch and presses his shoulder against Arthur’s arm, his head almost resting on his shoulder. Arthur glances down at the top of his head, and turns back to the movie while they eat. If all the while he plays some ridiculous game with the bunny stomping on the floor, he’s not going to say anything either.

 

He goes home that night feeling good about his choices, because even if he hasn’t made any moves on Merlin, even if he doesn’t know if Merlin is into him, he knows that they had fun, and he knows he would do the same a thousand times over having a one night stand with Cedric. That’s mostly enough for now.

He picks up his mail then, flipping through the letters as he goes up the lift, and he can’t help but to frown a bit as he sees a handwritten one. Arthur opens the envelope to pull out a card. He trusts his father to make his own choices and find his own happiness, but there’s something unsettling about how fast his relationship with Catrina is going, and the very near date printed on the wedding invitation he’s holding isn’t helping.


	9. The Last Debate

As per usual, the sun isn’t shining very brightly on Thursday afternoon, the clouded sky blocking it, but Arthur prefers to play football in this weather anyway, because it never gets too hot, and there is no blinding light that causes him to miss a shot. Those are both points he’s keen on this afternoon because he has a bigger audience than he had expected.

Somehow word of his and Gwaine’s bet got around -- and Arthur blames Morgana for it without a second thought -- so instead of a small show off between the two of them it turns out to be a full on game with their teams, and some audience also.

Arthur pauses between stretches to glance to his left, where on the stands Merlin is sitting, chatting with some friends. He’s moving there before he realizes it, and stops in front of them, leaning on the fence between them and looks up at him. “You won’t play, Merlin?”

Merlin shakes his head, "Not really my thing."

"I bet," Arthur says, "clumsy as you are, you'd trip on your own feet while trying to kick the ball."

"Arthur," Gwen, on Merlin's left, gives him a look.

"Nice to see you too, Guinevere," Arthur says, and she does smile a bit at him at that.

"And not me?" Morgana asks, on Gwen's other side.

"I see you more often than I'd like," Arthur replies, and his sister makes a face at him.

"And me?" Merlin asks, tilting his head.

"I've got a lot to complain about," Arthur says, but he leans in closer anyway, looking up at Merlin.

"I keep being forced into your company, somehow," Merlin replies, propping his elbows on the fence and leaning down, closer as well, "so if anyone's complaining, it should be me."

"And here I thought you had come to cheer for me."

"I want Gwaine to win," Merlin says, with a wide smile.

Morgana laughs, "Me too!"

"You're awful people," Arthur says, "Guinevere, you will cheer for me, won’t you?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Gwen looks away from him for a moment, her eyes landing somewhere in the field, "I... well..."

"She's with us," Merlin says, "because Gwaine's team has Lancelot, so..."

"Merlin!" Gwen lets out, blushing prettily, and leaning a bit away from him to look at Merlin better. "That’s not it!"

"Yes, it is," Morgana says.

"You can't deny it!" Merlin says, and turns to Arthur again, "really, you should hear it, it's always ' _ Lance this _ ' and ' _ Lance that _ ', and they don't stop making eyes at each other and flirting and they don't do anything about it! Gwen," he looks at her, "it is really frustrating to witness.”

“Yes,” Morgana says, but her eyes are firm on Arthur, “I know the exact feeling.”

Arthur hates her, glaring back at his sister, to the confusion of the other two. Luckily he doesn’t have to comment on it, because before anyone can add anything else to the conversation, Merlin’s friend Will comes over.

“Merlin!” he says, stopping at Arthur’s side, “you pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

Merlin looks at him in confusion. “What?”

“All of you are,” Will says, “this can’t be for real. Just spoke to the prat’s team, you know their names, mate?”

“Hey-” Arthur frowns at him, crossing his arms.

“I know the team,” Merlin says, “they all work at Excalibur.”

“Yeah, and that!” Will says, “Everyone here but me is named after some Arthurian legend git!” he pauses to wink at Morgana, “or princess.”

“You’re disgusting,” Morgana says, but she seems to be used to it.

“What are you talking about, Will?”

“You’re honestly asking me that?” Will says, “Look, mate, there’s  _ you _ , and Gwen and Morgana, and  _ Arthur  _ here, and they’re even siblings-”

“That’s obviously not a coincidence, Will,” Morgana sighs.

“But that’s not it! It’s like knights of the round table play footy, featuring Will!”

Gwen covers her mouth to hold back a laugh, her lips pulling into a smile.

“Look, mate,” Will moves closer to Merlin, holding a hand against the side of his mouth and whispering loudly, as if that could stop Arthur from listening in while standing right next to him, “I know you like this git for some reason, but he’s obviously a creep with an obsessions with legends, I think it’s time we back off from this madness.”

“Now hang on,” Arthur frowns, “I don’t hand pick my friends based on their names--”

“Don’t you?” Will turns to him, “because it sure sounds like it! Let me guess,” he looks between the stands and Arthur, “you and Gwen here used to date, am I right?”

Gwen sighs and Arthur stiffens a bit. “We did,” he says, his tone defensive.

“You did?” Merlin looks between the two of them, eyes wide, and Arthur doesn’t know what to tell him. He has no regrets about it, or any need to defend himself.

“And now,” Will continues, “she’s pinning for  _ Lancelot _ ! Does no one really make the connections here?”

“I don’t like him because of his name!” Gwen lets out, and she doesn’t have to raise her voice for them to see she’s getting angry, “I like him because he’s kind and noble and thoughtful!”

Will looks a bit chastised at that, kicking the grass softly, ducking his head a bit. “Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Next you’ll think Arthur and I will have a child together, who I train to murder him,” Morgana says, making a face, and Arthur shudders.

“ _ You’re _ disgusting,” he tells her.

“It’s just a coincidence, Will,” Merlin says, shrugging, “I doubt most people here were actually named after the legends.”

“I’m not Gwendolyn,” Gwen adds, “I’m Gwen, which is a perfectly normal name.”

“Fine, sure,” Will holds his hands up, “can’t deny it’s weird as fuck.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin says, “it’d be weirder if I was actually an old man that helped Arthur’s father get laid.”

“Okay, Merlin, I get your point,” Will sighs, and steps back, “but we  _ will _ talk about this later. After I kick your git’s ass.”

The tip of Merlin’s ears go slightly pink. “He’s not…”

“I’m winning this game,” Arthur raises an eyebrow at Will.

“No, you won’t,” Will chuckles, “and you can’t blame it on chatting it up with my mate instead of warming up, you’re warned.”

He jogs off, and now it’s Arthur who feels his face heating up for a moment, before squaring his shoulders.

“Well,” Morgana says, smirking a little, “wait until he finds out Arthur is actually my half brother.”

“What?” Merlin almost jumps, looking wide eyed between the two of them.

“You didn’t know?” Morgana asks, raising an eyebrow, “I must have forgotten to mention it. Uther had an affair with my mother, he only acknowledged it after my parents died and he took me in.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t say anything. He was about six when Morgana, one year older, came to live with him and his father, so It’s rare that he’s reminded that they have different mothers, especially since they grew up with neither of them. He knows Morgana doesn’t see it the same way, but he’s been been sold on the idea of how much his father loved his mother over and over again that it seems impossible Uther had an affair. Most times he forgets that Morgana is the living proof of it. It makes him uncomfortable to speak of it, but he knows it must be worse for Morgana, so he doesn’t shy away when she brings it up.

“Pity I don’t remember much about the time before she joined in,” Arthur says, his mandatory response, “I bet I had some happy and peaceful years before her.”

“Arthur, you don’t mean that,” Gwen says.

He can feel the side of his mouth pull into a smirk, as he shares a look with Morgana, who smirks right back, resting her chin on her hand. “Of course he does, Gwen. He’s always been a spoilt pompous baby, and he misses the short time he had the spotlight at home.”

“Always a delight, Morgana,” he says, his voice warm as he holds back a laugh. It wouldn’t do to go too easy on her. He looks at the other two and gives a step back, no longer leaning against the stand, glancing back at the field, where everyone else is preparing for the match. “Well,” he says, turning to them again, “no one’s going to cheer for me?”

“We’re all supporting the other team,” Morgana reminds him.

“You’re all going to wish you’d been on my side when I win this thing.” Arthur shakes his head, slowly walking backwards. 

“Arthur, wait,” Merlin says after a beat, hands shifting to the back of his neck. “Come here.”

“Changing your mind?” Arthur moves back to stand in front of his seat, looking up at him, frowning as he realizes that Merlin is untying his scarf. “What are you doing?”

“Give me your arm,” Merlin holds the scarf with a hand, and Arthur does as told, his eyes on Merlin’s uncovered neck. Merlin wraps the scarf around his wrist, and ties a knot in it. “There.”

Arthur frowns at the scarf, turning his hand to see the knot. “What’s this?”

“A favour,” Merlin says, and his cheeks flush a little, “going with Will’s theme, sir knight. You’re going to need some luck, and maybe this way your defeat won’t be so humiliating.”

Arthur feels his own cheeks heating up as his eyes snap from the scarf to Merlin. He knows the girls are most likely grinning, but he’s unable to do much else but keep his eyes on Merlin’s, and they hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, his heart thumping loudly in his chest, until he lowers his arm, stepping back. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, his right hand moving to touch on the scarf lightly, before looking at Merlin again. “I don’t need luck to win.” But he doesn’t take off the scarf.

“No, you heard me wrong,” Merlin grins, “I said you’d need luck so your loss wouldn’t be as devastating.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, stepping back again, “And you wonder why I say you’re delusional!”

He turns and starts jogging towards his team, but still manages to catch Morgana’s teasing tone as she goes “Well, Merlin…” but he’s not stopping to eavesdrop, he has a match to prepare for.  

Leon raises an eyebrow at him as he notices the red scarf on his wrist, and Arthur ignores him, going back to his warm ups, bending down to stretch up, fingers touching the tip of his shoes. He can’t help but to lift his head to look at the scarf again. He staggers as someone pats him hard on the shoulder. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Percy grinning at him, and Elyan wriggling his eyebrows on his side.

“Not one word,” Arthur warns, and Elyan laughs.

They finish warming up to watch Gwaine take off his shirt and encourage his team to do the same. “It’s aerodynamics! We’ll obviously run faster without them!” 

No one on his team seems to agree, and he complains about them as he goes to get the ball, flexing his arm and kissing his bicep as he passes by the stands. Merlin laughs and whoops for him as he passes by.

Neither team, if you can call them that, has enough players, as they all just play by themselves for fun, so it’s not exactly an official game. Each team splits the few players they have into key positions, and Elyan goes to the bench, so they play fair with three players each.

“Only for the first part,” he says, going to his sister, “then someone’s swapping with me!”

The game starts in an instance, Percy getting the ball and shuffling his way around Lancelot and Gwaine, who laughs loudly as he tries to mark him. The game then speeds up, the field mostly empty since there’s just six players, both the goalkeepers joining in as much as they can while it’s safe. Arthur feels more driven than usual, a grin on his face as he slides on the grass, leg extended to kick the ball before it goes over the sidelines. 

They score the first goal, Will cursing as he grabs the ball where it rests against the net, and Arthur turns his head to look at the stands, where Morgana is booing at them. Merlin grins at him, giving him a thumbs up.

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, and turns to go jump on Percy, who scored the goal.

When they stop, all needing a break to drink some water, Arthur’s team is leading with two goals, the other team with one. They’ve agreed to stop at five. He grabs a bottle of water from the cooler he brought and jogs over to the stands, grinning as Elyan cheers, and he raises a hand to him before his eyes land on Merlin.

“Regretting giving me your favour, Merlin?” he asks, pressing an elbow to the barrier, as he opens the water bottle. He’s feeling very hot, with all the running around, and his wrist underneath the scarf feels like it’s burning up, but he figures he can live with that.

“You’re still going to lose,” Merlin says, “Gwaine and Lance are the best players I’ve ever seen!”

Arthur scoffs at that, before taking a large gulp of the cool water He has to admit he is impressed by them, as much as someone can be impressed in a casual game, but what Merlin said is pushing it a bit. “Were you watching the game at all? I was right there on the field, Merlin, you should be able to see  _ clearly _ how much better I am.”

“Well…” Merlin scrunches up his face.

“Delusional,” Arthur says, “as uncult about football as you are on the performing arts.”

“You know, you’re right. I do want my scarf back now.”

“So you do think I’m going to win!” 

“What? No, I mean--” Merlin huffs, but he’s smiling as he lets out “you’re a prat!”

Arthur just takes another sip of his water, very pleased. “Elyan, you’re up.”

Leon goes to the stands, passing Elyan and sitting on Morgana’s side, and this time it’s him who ignores Arthur as he raises his eyebrows at him. He clasps Elyan’s shoulder, and they both go back to Percy. 

Within two minutes, Lancelot scores again, with an impressive maneuver, and Gwaine cheers loudly, jumping on him and kissing his cheek soundly. “You beautiful creature!”

With the score at a draw, the game speeds up, and the second half, doesn’t seem to take too long, with goal after goal coming, all missing. Leon is the only one in the stands cheering for them when Arthur’s team scores, but the other three are loud when the other team gets a goal. Percy kicks the ball too high towards the end, but Arthur shifts, turning to it and jumping backwards into the air, kicking the ball. He loses his breath as his back hits the ground, the smell of grass stronger around him, and there’s nothing like this rush, like his blood pumping his his veins loudly, the sting on his back from the harsh landing. He tilts his head back to look at the goal, grinning as he sees the ball resting inside it. 

There’s a moment of silence before he starts sitting up, and Will’s voice is heard. “Oh, come on!”

“Was that a bicycle kick?” Gwaine runs closer, and Arthur doesn’t have time to get up before Elyan goes down on the grass with him, grabbing his face with both hands and grins at him “Arthur!”

Arthur grins back, glancing at the stands for a moment, before he turns to Gwaine, who’s gaping at him. “4 to 2. Better step up your game.”

“You’re on, princess!”

And the thing is, they do. In ten minutes they’re tied again, and then the game starts to drag on, each goal being blocked, each kick stronger, and Gwaine is the only one still bursting with energy by this point, yelling compliments to his team and some to Arthur’s as well.

Then Arthur jumps, the ball hitting his chest as he blocks a long kick from Will, but Gwaine’s there right away, winking at him as he shifts the ball away, and Arthur does half a turn quickly, running up to mark him. But Gwaine is quick on his feet, and kicks the ball forward to Lancelot, who does a high kick towards the goal.

Elyan jumps, arms raised to stop it, but the ball goes too high, and Arthur stops, holding his breath as he watches it, Elyan falling back on his feet, as the ball that appeared to fly over the net actually brushing the top bar as it goes it.

Gwaine laughs loudly, running off Arthur’s side towards Lancelot and hugging him tightly, sending both of them to the ground. “Lance, you beauty!” He grabs Lance’s face with both hands and presses a loud, and seemingly wet kiss to his cheek again, and Lancelot makes a face even as he laughs.

Elyan and Percy jog to Arthur’s side, all watching as Will joins the winning pile on the ground.

“Sorry, mate,” Elyan says.

“No one could block that,” Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder. “You played well.”

Percy grins. “It was a fun game.”

Will and Gwaine are singing ‘ _ We are the Champions _ ’ offbeat, and Arthur crosses his arms, amused. “Isn’t that taking this too far?”

In reply, Will points at him as he sings “ _ no time for losers… _ ” and Gwaine laughs loudly.

“He’s right, you’re pushing it,” Lance says, as he tries to move from under the pile.

“I love you, mate, but you’re no fun,” Gwaine says, moving off him, and they all get up.

“That was a good game,” Arthur holds his hand out for him. “We should do this more often.”

Gwaine grins at him, grabbing his hand and giving it a firm shake. “We sure do, princess.”

Arthur decides to ignore the nickname for the moment, “...maybe you should start practicing with us,” he asks, and glances over to see Elyan and Percy nodding in agreement. “You’re good players, and neither of us have enough for one team.”

“Sure thing!” Gwaine says. Lance grins at it, and Will doesn’t seem very pleased, but not enough to protest. 

“Good.” Arthur lowers his hand.

“You have to teach me that bicycle kick,” Gwaine says, “it must be a killer with the ladies.”

“I didn’t do it for the ladies,” Arthur replies, amused.

Gwaine looks down at Arthur’s wrist, and smirks at him. “Yeah, bet you didn’t.”

Arthur stiffens a bit, but doesn’t comment on that. “About the bet.”

“Yes,” Gwaine grins, “I get to keep calling you princess, and you’re taking the show back on, yeah?”

“I said I’d consider it,” Arthur says, “and I will. Next time we have an opening in our schedule, Dragoon can audition for it.”

“Really?” Merlin asks eagerly

Arthur turns to look at him. The group on the stands has just arrived, and Leon, considerate as always, brings over the cooler with them. 

“Really,” he says, and Merlin grins at him beautifully. “Even though your scarf didn’t bring me any luck.”

“It did exactly what I said it would,” Merlin replies, “it made your loss less shameful.”

“Seeing as I’d normally win, I’d say it didn’t bring my any good luck.”

“You can give it back then,” Merlin holds out his hand.

“No, I won’t,” Arthur’s hand moves to hide behind his hip, “not until it gets me a win.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“I do, so tough luck.”

“Spoilt prat,” Merlin mutters, but he sounds fond as he does so, before shaking his head and going to congratulate the winning team.

Arthur goes to the cooler, where Gwen and Leon are chatting, taking a water bottle for himself, and joins in the conversation. He complains about how hot it is, even as he splashes water on his face, drinking deeply from the bottle, but still he doesn’t take off the scarf from his arm. No one comments on it, and even so, Arthur’s eyes are constantly drawn to it, his chest filling with a warm feeling that he welcomes despite the heat.


	10. The Land of Shadow

Arthur is quite pleased with Cedric’s show, he decides, as he watches it Monday night. Cornelius is a powerful persona on the stage, attention easily drawn to him. His play with shadows is very alternative, experimental, even, but it has potential with more practice, which he’s willing to give on his stage.

The man strides across the stage, his voice booming nicely in the room, his feathery dark cloak turning swiftly with him as he moves, arms raised in the air, as the shadows shift behind him, projected on the back of the stage. It’s interesting to see a play with shadows on a darkened stage, and Arthur is impressed with the balance Cedric has managed to create with the dimmest light possible while keeping the silhouettes strong and visible, gargoyle figures almost coming to life with the light play going on. Cedric himself is a tad too dramatic, his presence too commanding, on the borderline of intimidating, but even if it’s not very enjoyable to feel ordered around by him, Arthur has to admit that it does keep his eyes on the stage. He’ll have to give him some pointers, to tone down his persona, and perhaps to elaborate more on the show itself. It’s interesting enough to see the shadow work, yes, but only for so long. They could work better if there was a story going on at the same time. He already has to meet Cedric after the show, per the man’s requests, so now as he watches it, Arthur is trying to come up with a storyline that might help improve the show.

Merlin, per usual on Mondays, isn't there with him. Arthur looks at the empty seat on his left, and wonders what show on any other day of the week could be shifted, for Dragoon to come then. Obviously Mondays don't work for Merlin, and he's curious to see Merlin watching the performance. He's more interested in that than in having Dragoon back, but if the old man apologises, he's willing to give him another shot, if there's a free slot  for him. Until then, he’ll be fine without ever having to hear about the old magician ever again.

"This is... nice," Gwen says, on his right, and Arthur looks at her. She’s frowning slightly, her teeth pressing down on her bottom lip as she watches the show. 

"You don't like it, do you?"

"I liked the other show better," she says diplomatically, and then adds quickly, “not to say  that this one isn’t good too! It’s very good! Not my favorite, but it’s good! Dark shadows aren’t my thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not anyone else’s thing! I’m sure plenty of people like it better than I do!”

He had been surprised when Gwen showed up earlier that day, but had been pleased. She claims it has been a long time since they have spent some quality time together, and she’s right, of course. They all have their own lives and, as Morgana loves to point out, Arthur’s usually involve drowning himself in work and doing little else. She never misses the chance to hang out with friends outside of Excalibur, but that apparently also wasn’t an excuse to miss Gwen when she comes around, so now he also has his sister sitting on Gwen’s other side.

"I know you all liked Dragoon better, and I've agreed to give him a chance if a slot opens," Arthur says, wishing they’d stop bringing it up.

"Yes, yes, you don't stop saying that," Morgana says, waving him off.

“You don’t sound very happy about that,” Arthur replies.

“Tired of listening to it and not seeing it.”

“Really? Would you go fire someone who did nothing wrong just to have that old lunatic back?”

“This is a business, Arthur, if you find someone better for the position, you get them in.”

“You only say that because you like Dragoon,” Arthur says, “otherwise you’d be defending the  _ poor artists _ who aren’t to blame for his firing in the first place.”

“I am not,” Morgana says, lifting her chin.

“Yes, you are! Morgana, we  _ both _ agreed that Cedric deserved the spot when we hired him. You’re changing your mind because you like Dragoon more.”

“Of course I am, Arthur! I want the best performing here, and I know that’s him!”

"And we'll discuss this when he has the chance to audition. Until then, I don't want to hear anything else on the subject."

"Good thing you can't tell me what to do, then."

Arthur sighs, pinching the brick of his nose, and Gwen rests a hand on his arm.

"Don't worry, Arthur, everything will work out."

Gwen changes the subject for them, a second nature to her after dealing with their arguments for so long, and Arthur relaxes again, as she tells them about the conversation she had with Lancelot after the game last week, about her work as a jewelry designer, and working in an actual smith. Gwen never does things by halves, being hands on whenever she can, and when she can’t, she creates herself the opportunity for it, and Arthur has always admired that about her. He’s enjoying the conversation, so he’s reluctant when he has to interrupt the conversation, once the show ends.

“Cedric has asked me to speak to him about the show after his performance,” he explains as he gets up. “I’ll be right back.”

He moves to the back door, carefully dodging the tables and George, who apologises profoundly for being in his way, which makes Arthur have to stop to assure him it was alright, before he actually manages to reach backstage.  He’s trying to get his mind back onto the points he wants to present to Cedric, from which George distracted him from, and he goes back to listing them as he walks.

Cedric has just opened the door to his backroom when Arthur shows up, and he smiles at him. “Ah, Arthur. I’m glad you could make it.”

"You wanted to speak with me?" he asks Cedric, as the man walks backwards into his room.

"Yes, thank you for meeting me," Cedric says, and leads him inside, closing the door after them and taking off his dark feathery cloak. "I've been treated with respect and in great conditions, you clearly know how to pamper your artists."

"Thank you," Arthur says, a bit apprehensive. 

Cedric turns to him again, and slowly walks closer, until he's crowding Arthur against the door. "You, however, have missed an appointment with me already." He settles both hands on Arthur's waist, moving them slowly as he presses even closer, his breath on Arthur’s face, the dark smudged eyeliner around his eyes even sharper up close.

Arthur steps back, and feels the door right behind him, the door knob pressing uncomfortably against his back. He put one hand on Cedric's chest to keep him at a distance. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, but I'm not interested."

Cedric's hand moves on his hip, and he leans in. "Are you sure?" he asks, almost in a purr, close enough that his nose almost touches Arthur, and he feels his stomach drop, his throat dry.

"Very." Arthur says firmly. He doesn't want to use force, but he'll do it if he has to. He also doesn't want to give Morgana a reason right away to fire Cedric, so he's very relieved when the man shrugs and steps back, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Very well. If you change your mind..."

"I won't. Goodnight," Arthur says, and he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, his heart racing. He takes a few minutes to get himself under control again, and to remember that he needed to give Cedric a few notes about the show, but he figures he can do that another time. Right now, the last thing he wants is to go back in that room. He walks with long strides out of the backrooms, going to Elyan and ordering a drink from him, tipping it all back with long gulps that burn his throat before he orders another one. He makes Elyan join Morgana and Gwen with him.

“Is everything okay?” Gwen asks as he sits down, tilting her head as her brother leans down to kiss her cheek. She pats the top of his head, and Elyan goes back to his station, claiming to have done his job as a good brother.

Arthur’s not sure why he doesn’t want to share what just happened, but he feels like he brought what just happened on himself, when he flirted back with Cedric when they met. And Cedric might have invaded his personal space, but he stopped when Arthur said no, so it’s not like he did anything wrong. It just sits badly with Arthur, for some reason, and he doesn’t feel like talking about it. It brings a bad taste to his mouth, and he takes a large sip of his drink.

“Cedric wanted to talk about a costume change,” Arthur says. “It was ridiculous and I shut him down.”

“At least that,” Morgana says. “Although I can’t really see how it’s more ridiculous than dark feathers.”

“Don’t you start with it again.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

Gwen sighs, amused, shaking her head. “Won’t you two ever get along?”

“Only when you’re here to keep her in check,” Arthur says.

“And when you make sure his head doesn’t inflate too much,” Morgana has to add.

“And here I thought I was a friend, not as a family counselor!” Gwen says with a laugh.

“We’ve been doing terribly without your company, my dear,” Morgana says, putting a hand over Gwen’s. “You haven’t been around much.”

“You should,” Arthur says, “I always enjoy your company, and you could help me teach Merlin a thing or two about the shows we have here.”

“I don’t want to come in between your dates, Arthur!” Gwen says. “I think it’s rather sweet, what you’re doing.”

“I-- we’re not dating, Guinevere,” Arthur frowns, his hands curling slightly into fists.

“You’re cooking him meals at least once a week,” Gwen says, “You never did that for me when we were dating, Arthur! Not that I’m complaining, I’m not!”

“I tried one time,” Arthur defends himself, his shoulders tense.

“Yes, and your ordered chicken from the place around the corner and tried to pass it as your own!”

Morgana laughs, as she always does when she hears this story, and Gwen covers her mouth as she can’t help but to do the same. At least she’s more subtle about it than his sister.

“I was sixteen, will you ever let it go?”” Arthur asks, “besides, this is different. We just hang out outside of here occasionally. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“But it does, doesn’t it?” Gwen asks softly, looking intently at him.

He looks down, unable to stand her look anymore, his shoulders dropping as his eyes settle on the table. Gwen always knows how to work him, how to present arguments to him and make him see her point, and to see what he wants as well. It’s something he has always appreciated about her, how much Gwen makes him strive to be better than he already is, and she always makes it sound so easy. It’s no wonder he loved her.

“It means… something,” he admits, but that’s as far as he’s willing to go.

“This is delightful,” Morgana says with obvious glee, and with that she ruins the moment.

“Not a word to him,” Arthur warns them both, frowning.

Morgana and Gwen share a look, and the latter sighs.

“You two are behaving like teenagers, one of these days I’m doing something about it,” Morgana says. 

“You won’t do anything,” Arthur points a finger at her, “I know how you work, and I don’t want your help.”

“You say that now,” Morgana shrugs. “But you’ll change your mind, you’ll see.”

“I doubt that,” Arthur says, but he has a bad feeling about what she just said. He knows Morgana loves to interfere in his business whenever she can, despite how much she complains about it. Sometimes her help is welcome, even if he won’t admit it to her, but his relationship with Merlin is between the two of them, and he doesn’t want Morgana to influence anything. If something is going to happen between him and Merlin, then he wants it to be because they decided it, not because Morgana got her hands on them and got it into their heads.

  
  


“Arthur,” Uther’s voice comes through as soon as Arthur picks up the phone, and he goes straight to business, per usual, “your reply to the wedding invitation has arrived, and you claim to be going without a plus one.”

“That’s right,” Arthur says, doing his best not to sound out of breath. It’s seven in the morning, and his father has just interrupted his morning run. Arthur hates to be stopped in the middle of it, the waste of time and momentum, but he knows better than to ignore his father’s calls. 

“This won’t do at all. If you cannot get a date of your own, then I can arrange one for you.” 

Arthur’s has to run a hand over his face, forcing himself to focus on the conversation rather than on the cool water bottle waiting for him at home. He starts moving his legs up and down, too energetic to simply stand still. He needs to keep moving, even if his pace was already broken. “Father--”

“Olaf, you remember him, don’t you, has a daughter around your age. He’ll be at the wedding, and I’m sure his daughter would be delighted to go with you.”

“I’ve also heard stories about what he does to his daughter’s dates,” Arthur replies. Olaf had come over for dinner often enough while Arthur was growing up, and the older men had laughed about how he chased off every man interested in his daughter. Arthur had never met her, but those tales had been enough to make him uninterested in her. They had also angered Morgana, who always managed to hold herself back until they were alone to explode about women not needing to be defended and to be allowed to make their own choices.

“Olaf is very fond of you, Arthur, if I spoke to him, I’m sure he’d agree with the idea.” Uther says, as if he hasn’t laughed with Olaf about chasing teenage kids out of his home with a kitchen knife in hand.

“I can manage a date on my own, Father,” Arthur says, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s said those exact words to him.

“You obviously can’t,” Uther replies, “otherwise you’d have one already.”

“You’ve set a very early date for the wedding, Father,” Arthur says, “it hardly gives me time to meet someone.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll speak with Olaf about Vivian.”

“Father, wait,” Arthur says, and he hesitates before adding, “...give me a day to find someone on my own.”

“Very well. I’ll call you same time tomorrow to confirm the issue.”

“Yes, Father.” Arthur replies, even though it means tomorrow’s run will be ruined as well.

“Goodbye,” his father replies, hanging up before Arthur has the chance to say the same to him.

Arthur lowers his phone, sighing as he looks at the screen. The last thing he needs at the moment is to have another date arranged by his father. He’s been unsettled about it ever since Sophia, even if his father isn’t to blame about his lack of memory about the girl, but he’s not keen on the same happening with Vivian and having Olaf chase him with his l hunting shotgun, as he knows he did to one of her previous boyfriends. 

He puts the phone back in his pockets, the earplugs back in his ears and goes back to his morning run, the music setting the pace for him. He has one day to figure out what to do.


	11. On the Doorstep

“This isn’t right,” Morgana says, putting down the porcelain cup back on its stand, turning to Arthur with a frown. “You know it isn’t.”

“What I know is that I shouldn’t have agreed to do this with you,” Arthur says, “I could buy a wedding present on my own without having to listen to you having another fit about father’s choices.”

This was the third store they were at this morning, going through the options they had to offer to the engaged couple once they got married. Morgana had suggested the both of them go shopping at the same time, to have some company, and Arthur had agreed because he knows she’s better at picking out gifts than he is. He should have realized that what she wanted was another chance to complain about the wedding, as if she doesn’t already do that at any chance she gets. He’s glad he hasn’t commented this early mornings phonecall with their father, or he’d have to hear about that too. He still doesn’t know what to do about his date, but what he does know if that Morgana would just complicate things even further.

“Just look at the presents list, Arthur!” she pushes the paper forward so he could look at it, “expensive jewelry, vases, golden statues, this list is ridiculous! Do you think Uther would really pick any of this?”

“Uther can buy any of it,” Arthur replies, “and his home already has everything he needs. What they want is things for her as well. Her tastes are odd, but that’s no reason to call off a wedding, Morgana.”

He picks up a purple vase with drawings of flowers in gold, and shows it to her.

“No, that’s incredibly ugly and you know it,” she dismisses it entirely.

“Morgana.” Arthur just tilts the vase a little, lifting his eyebrows to her.

She watches him, and it takes a moment for a smile to grow on her face. “...Which makes it perfect. How much does it cost?”

Arthur looks down at the price tag, frowning a little. “It’s not exactly cheap.”

“Wedding gifts never are.”

Arthur carefully puts the vase down again, and takes a photo with his phone of the number of the piece, to request it later. “So what else do we get them?”

“How about another vase?” Morgana asks, “we could play it as a big coincidence, isn’t that a shame?”

“I think one ugly vase is enough.”

“And you complain that we’ve been at this for hours,” Morgana sighs. “I’m the one giving them that vase, then, unless we find something even more distasteful to look at.”

“Come on,” Arthur puts a hand on her elbow and leads her around the store again, so they can find something. She moves from his hold after a few paces, and goes off on her own around the shop.

Arthur stops a few times to look at some marfin sculptures with interesting carvings, taking his time as he looks around at several products, walking from aisle to aisle as he keeps glancing to the list in his hand, to see if anything matches the required gifts. Catrina has some expensive taste, he has to admit that, but if that doesn’t bother his father, then it has no reason to bother Arthur either.

“Arthur,” Morgana’s voice shakes a little with mirth, “come here.”

Arthur puts down a marble piece. “What is it?”

“Just come over.”

Arthur contemplates the idea of just ignoring her request, but he’s curious to know what his sister found, so he follows her voice down the hall until he reaches a display covered in glass, Morgana standing in front of it on its right, looking at him over her shoulder and motioning for him to come closer.

“Look at this, Arthur,” Morgana says, her tone so excited that if she was less dignified she’d be bouncing on her feet, “I think I’ve found the perfect gift.”

Arthur stands next to her, frowning at the jewelry on display. There are several doll figurines made out of sparkling stones and gold, but as his eyes scan it, he comes across the one Morgana is so eager about.

“It’s that troll,” he says, frowning. “Shred?”

“Shrek. And you complain about uncultured people,” she corrects him right away.

Arthur shrugs. “I’ve only seen the movie once, almost twenty years ago.” He watched it at Leon’s home, when it came out, and once his father found out he wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers there for a few months. He had rather enjoyed the movie, he thinks, but he never suggested watching it again.

“As I keep saying, you’re no fun.” Morgana says, “But isn’t it perfect? A golden troll. I rather think it suits her.”

Arthur stares at the  [ figurine ](http://www.goldexit.com/product_images/3_1341996389fsp3278t1-mens-10k-gold-color-diamond-shrek-pendant-charm-hip-hop%20\(2\).jpg) in question. It’s not small, especially considering it looks like a pendant for a necklace, and who would want such a thing? He can’t really believe there’s a market for it, especially to waste precious stones over. The amount of gold it has, he never thought such thing could possibly exist.

“It’s… I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m not surprised,” Morgana replies, “words aren’t your strongsuit.”

“Morgana.”

"You know this is the perfect gift for her, Arthur. She's a money grabbing troll."

"You don't know that," Arthur says, "she just likes him. Besides, this would be a very expensive joke."

"It is rather costly," Morgana sighs, "and neither of us is swimming in money..."

"Let's find something else."

Morgana doesn't move, frowning a little as she looks at the ridiculous figurine.

"Morgana," he puts a hand on her back, moving her along. "Come on. You'd upset Father, too."

"He already knows what I feel about this farce of a marriage."

"Then you don't need to prove it further by spending money you don't have. Come along, let's see if something else suits us."

He drags her off the display, putting some pressure into her back. Morgana's steps are slow, her head turning to look at the troll pendant one more time, before she shakes her head and steps forward all by herself, out of his reach. "Very well. Something as awful but cheaper, it shouldn't be too hard to find."

Arthur holds back and doesn't reply. They've been at this for at least two hours, and he's not seeing them stopping any time soon. He only hopes that they can at least make a break for lunch soon, if they have to drag this on for the afternoon as well, and with the wedding day looming closer, they need to get this done and over with as soon as possible. Especially since he still has to find a date for the wedding.

  
  


“The issue is,” Arthur explains, eyeing his glass on the table as he’s been doing the whole time, as he explains the problem, “I don’t want to take  _ anyone _ ” his eyes darting to Merlin then, at last, “on a first date to my father’s wedding. It’s not right.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit odd,” Merlin says, “taking someone out to watch your father make out in front of a crowd.”

“ _ Merlin _ .”

“It doesn’t exactly set the mood, does it?” Merlin replies.

“And the thing is, he never asks this of Morgana,” Arthur says his hands gesturing forward, “she can do what she wants, she’s taking Guinevere as a friend, and Father doesn’t say a word!”

“Why can’t you?”

“I..” Arthur hesitates, mouth closing for a moment, before he speaks. “He keeps setting me up with women. I think it’s because he knows I’m bisexual, and is trying to make sure I end up with one.”

Merlin’s hand closes over Arthur’s on the table. “That’s tough. My mum never had any issues with me liking blokes, so I don’t really know what that’s like.” He pauses for a moment, before asking. “What if I go with you?”

Arthur takes a moment to actually filter what he’s just heard, his eyes on Merlin’s hand as all that goes through his head is  _ Merlin isn’t straight _ . “What?” he asks, eyes snapping back to Merlin’s.

Merlin moves his hand away. “Yeah, bad idea, forget it.”

“No, it’s— if I bring you as a friend, my father will still try to set me up with Vivian at the wedding,” Arthur explains, and if there’s something he wants less than to be set up with her, it’s for that to happen right in front of Merlin. 

“...What if you don’t take me as a friend?” Merlin asks, his voice wavering a little, “we can pretend it’s a date. You’d still have someone there, and he wouldn’t try to set you up, right?”

“...Right,” Arthur lets out, and he feels like his mind has been dismantled. He can’t stop himself from imagining them arm in arm at the wedding, acting like a couple,  _ holding hands _ , and he never thought he could be that much of a sap. “You... you’d do that for me?”

Merlin looks down for a moment, before smiling at him. “Yeah.”

“You’re a good friend, Merlin,” Arthur says, his voice thick with emotion. He has to force himself to stop picturing Merin pressed against his side, their hands clasped together as they walk into the church.  “Thank you.”

Merlin grins at him then, and it’s almost more than he can bare. “So, when’s the wedding?”

“The wedding’s Sunday, but there’s a dinner on Saturday..”

“So soon?” Merlin asks, surprised.

“Yes,” Arthur nods, looking at him, “are you sure you’re alright with doing this?”

Merlin nods.

“Then I have to confirm you as a plus one to my father. Do you have a suit?”

“Well…”

“I’ll buy you one.”

“Arthur,” Merlin frowns, “you don’t have to spend money on me.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Arthur says, “let me thank you properly, you’re doing a lot for me.”

“Yeah, for you,” Merlin mutters, before grinning. “Never thought I’d see you thankful for anything.”

“Merlin.”

“And it’s gone,” Merlin sighs a bit dramatically, “should have known it wouldn’t last long.”

And what else is Arthur to do than hook an arm around his neck and pull him into a headlock, to rub his head? Merlin laughs even as he struggles against his hold, and Arthur eventually does let go of him, mostly so they don’t disturb the clients around them, and they settle back into watching the current show. Arthur finds they’re sitting closer together than they were before, almost leaning on each other, and he has nothing to complain about anymore.

  
  


“Arthur, I expected to hear from you tomorrow,” Uther says as soon as he picks up the phone. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” Arthur replies, closing the door behind him as he gets in his office. He’s exhausted, having spent the afternoon dragging Merlin to a tailor to get him a new suit, watching him get measured and trying on suit after suit, his heart always loud in his chest as he saw Merlin dressed up. He still has work to do tonight. “I have a date.”

“Wonderful,” Uther replies. “What’s her name?”

“Actually,” Arthur leans against the door, feeling his throat close up, “it’s Merlin. You should remember him from the hospital. He was the one who pulled me from the lake.” If Arthur was hoping that the rescue would ease it over with his father, he was wrong. 

“That boy? Arthur, if it’s to bring a friend, I will call Olaf and arrange you something better.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Arthur blurts out, his face burning, “Merlin and I...we’re dating.”

There’s a silence on the other side of the line for a long moment, and Arthur hates how insecure he feels about this issue around his father, hates how his father’s validation is so important to him. 

“When did this happen?”

“Last week,” Arthur says, “it’s very new. That’s why I hadn’t told you yet,” he adds, a bit inspired to work this further, “or why I didn’t plan to bring him to the wedding with me. It’s... very new.”

“I see.”

“And it’s your day,” Arthur adds, his throat dry, “I didn’t want to upset you at your wedding.”

“I want you to enjoy the wedding, Arthur,” Uther says, his voice deep, “if he has to be there for it, so be it.”

“Thank you, father.”

“I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Yes, father. Goodnight.”

His father hangs up, and Arthur leans back against the door. That conversation went better than he had expected, but there’s a bitter taste in his mouth at the deceit. He hopes one day  all of it won’t be a lie, but it feels wrong to lie to his father in any case, even though he knows it’s for the best. He needs a date and doesn’t want it to be anyone else but Merlin, even if it’s just pretend. If it weren’t for that last part, he’d be feeling no guilt at the conversation, he’d be excited even. 

Arthur has never introduced a boyfriend to his father, not that he’d actually dated any men before, having never met one he was comfortable coming out with, and has reserved his interest for his own gender merely in casual encounters. It’s easier to date girls, to blend in, to please his father, but Arthur knows that’s going to change now, if he ever gets somewhere with Merlin.

He hadn’t realized before this moment but, if he’s going to test the waters with this fake date, at the very least he can see what his father thinks of the relationship before it happens. It seems good so far, not the disapproval he had thought he’d get, so maybe everything will work out for the best. Maybe he can do this without disappointing his father too much.

He goes to his desk, grabbing the folder he needs, and leaves again, going to find his sister. She finds him first, striding to him as soon as he leaves the backrooms, back in the club. 

“Arthur,” she corners him against the door, her tone sharp and with a frown on her face.

He’d be worried, but Arthur hasn’t done anything to upset her lately, so he just presents her with the file in his hand. “There you are. Here’s the listings for next week, I’ve done some changes to the schedule, Fight Dragons called needing a new time slot because their drummer-”

“I don’t care,” Morgana says, snatching the folder from him, “not right now. We have something more important to talk about.”

“We do? Because we need to reprint next week’s brochures as soon as we can, and I need you to see the changes before we set—”

“ _ Arthur _ ,” Morgana hisses, grabbing his arm, “we need to talk about the wedding.”

Arthur sighs. “Morgana, we have actual work to do, and I doubt you’re going to complain about something I haven’t listened to you rant about before. Didn’t you get that out of your system for the day this morning?”

“This morning,” Morgana replies, “I wasn’t aware you were going to take Merlin as your  _ fake date _ to the wedding.”

“I was going to tell you,” Arthur says, lowering his voice.

“Oh, I know you were! You need me for this little scheme to work! I need to know so I can lie to Uther with you!”

“Morgana, it’s—”

“This isn’t right, Arthur! You can play with your feelings all you want, but you can’t do the same to him! This isn’t fair to Merlin—”

“He’s the one who suggested it! And you know what isn’t fair to him? It wouldn’t be  _ fair _ to him if I asked him on our first date because father pressured me into not going alone to the wedding! It wouldn’t be right do to it under these circumstances, Morgana!”

“You’re not a child, Arthur, you could go to the wedding on your own! There’s no need to drag Merlin into this!”

“Father wants to set me up with Vivian, Olaf’s daughter,” Arthur says, and sighs, “look, can we discuss this in my office? I’d rather not have this conversation here.”

Morgana frowns, glaring around the club as if it was to blame for the number of people in it. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Arthur steps aside to open the door and goes in, Morgana joining his side right away.

“You could just tell him how you feel,” Morgana says, as they walk down the hall.

“I don’t want it to be prompted because of the wedding, Morgana,” Arthur explains again, “it’s not right.”

“You should know better than this, Arthur—” she stops, her frown deepening as they run into Cedric. “What are you doing here?”

Arthur looks surprised at the man. It’s Tuesday, so he shouldn’t be around at all, his only show being Monday night, in Dragoon’s old time slot. Cedric freezes for a second as he sees them, and then relaxes where he’s standing, close to the door of Arthur’s office.

“I forgot my bag here last night,” he says, lifting slightly the brown satchel he’s holding over one shoulder. “Hope I didn’t intrude. The big guy outside let me in.”

Arthur needs to have a conversation with Percy, it seems. “You should call ahead next time,” he says, “have a good night.”

“Sure thing,” Cedric nods, walking pass them, “you too.”

Arthur and Morgana wait until he leaves the backroom, watching him leave, and he turns, giving them a small wave before he goes through the doors. Then they go back to the conversation.

“Strange,” Morgana says, as Arthur opens the door to his office, “I had the green room cleared up for tonight’s performers, and I didn’t notice the bag.”

“Maybe he left it somewhere else,” Arthur says, turning the light on and closing the door after her.

“Maybe, no matter,” Morgana dismisses the topic and looks at him, “what are you going to do about Merlin?”

“Nothing,” Arthur says, “at least not until after the wedding. It’s a bad time.”

“You know he suggested it because he like you right? He wants an excuse to be with you.”

“Or maybe he’s just a good friend,” Arthur replies.

“You cannot be this obtuse and be related to me, Arthur,” Morgana says, “he obviously—”

“He obviously nothing, Morgana,” Arthur says, “I know my own feelings, but I don’t know his. You can complain to me as much as you want about how I should make a move, but the truth is, he hasn’t done so either. I think he might be interested, but I’m not sure, and neither are you.”

“Arthur.”

“How can I admit that I think about him all the time?” Arthur snaps, “that I care for him more than—” his voice wavers a little and he stops, his shoulders tensing as he’s filled with embarrassment, stepping back.

“Why can’t you?” Morgana asks, moving forward to match his step. “What’s stopping you?”

“Because if he doesn’t feel the same, it will ruin what we have,” Arthur says. “I can’t say it until I know he feels the same.”

“Arthur, he obviously does.”

“You don’t know that anymore than I do,” Arthur replies, “we can both just be reading too much into it. Wishful thinking.”

Morgana gives him a hard look, “Then you’re more of a coward than I thought you were.”

Arthur sighs again, running a hand through his hair, turning his head to the side, before crossing his arms. “There’s nothing to do, Morgana. At least not until after the wedding.”

“If you say so,” Morgana replies, walking back to the door, “but we will speak of this again, brother.”

“I know,” Arthur says, trying not to sound too defeated. 

She leaves his office without another word, and Arthur slumps against his desk, one hand on its surface to brace himself up. Arguing with his sister is unnerving and exhausting, and he hates when Morgana decides to turn against him, especially on issues that don’t concern her directly.

He looks at the door for a moment, before standing straight again and leaving the room. He needs to talk to Percy about who’s allowed backstage.


	12. A Thief in the Night

“We need to plan our story,” Morgana says, as everyone takes the dishes to Arthur’s kitchen.

It’s Wednesday night, and Arthur has invited Merlin, Morgana and Gwen over for dinner, as a thank you for lying for him during the wedding. And, as Morgana put it, they do need to figure out exactly what lies they’ll be telling. He nods, putting the dishes in the sink, and leads them back to the living room.

“Coffee?” he asks as Gwen and Morgana settle down on one of the couches, leaving the only free spot for him to sit down next to Merlin. He’s sure they did that on purpose.

“Later. Stop delaying this conversation, Arthur,” Morgana orders, and he sighs, sitting down next to Merlin.

“I’m thankful you’re all willing to lie for me,” Arthur says.

Gwen smiles. “This is delightful! Well, not lying of course, that’s a bad thing! But this sounds just like the plot of a romcom, it’s so sweet.”

Arthur crosses his arms. “My life isn’t a romantic comedy.”

“No, of course not,” Gwen says, waving her hands, “I didn’t mean that, it’s.. Well, it sounds like one! On this occasion.”

“Not that much,” Merlin replies, and wriggles his eyebrows a bit, his tone joking as he adds, “only if Arthur and I make out at the end.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” he says, his eyes on the coffee table between the two couches, heart hammering in his chest.

“Yes, Merlin,” Morgana laughs, a glint in her eye that Arthur dreads, “haven’t you seen any of those movies? Sometimes they get to make out very early on.”

Arthur’s going to die. He’s sure of it, there’s no way he can survive all of this, not at the pace his heart is going. At this rate, he’ll die before the wedding itself. He has been too distracted with fantasies about getting to touch Merlin to think about what exactly this plan should entail. 

Gwen, bless her, sees his discomfort and tries to help. “Well, I doubt that will be an issue, what we need to do is stick to a story.”

“Yes, thank you, Guinevere,” Arthur speaks right away, to leave no room for Morgana to make things worse. “I’ve told my father we’ve been dating for a week, Merlin,” he finally manages to glance at him, and is rewarded with a smile. “We need to plan this out, with details. Leave no room for doubt or different tales, in case someone asks.”

“And people will ask,” Morgana agrees, “especially Agravaine.”

“Who?” Merlin asks, at the face she makes.

“My uncle,” Arthur replies, “from my mother’s side. He’ll be there?”

“Apparently he was the one who introduced Catrina to Uther,” Morgana says, “he’s the best man.”

“Alright, so he’ll want to know about us,” Merlin asks. “So what goes? You were completely irresistible to me, and I threw myself at you, confessing my profound feelings?”

“Merlin.” 

“I even wrote you a poem!” Merlin adds, grinning, “very lyrical, very touching.”

“I don’t like poetry,” Arthur replies, a corner of his mouth twisting up.

“You do now,” Merlin says, “it was very moving, and now every poem reminds you of me.”

“What if they ask what the poem was?” Arthur replies, looking at him.

“Uh,” He looks at Arthur intensely, squinting his eyes a bit, “Your golden hair glitters... like you’re wearing a crown… if you don’t... take my heart you’ll let me down… oh my sweet prat.. How..hm..how I wish to tap that!”

How is Arthur in love with this man he has no idea. He’s appalled at his own taste. It’s ridiculous how fond he is of this terrible attempt at poetry. It’s revolting that he’s holding back a smile. Makes no sense.

“You’re right. I love...poetry. Really swooning here, Merlin,” he says, “clearly you have some hidden talents I had no clue of before. This is a gift.”

“Shut up,” Merlin nudges his shoulder on Arthur’s, “you put me on the spot.”

“How about we cut out the poetry,” Morgana says. “And say, oh, I don’t know, that the two of you are a couple of idiots who’ve been into each other since you first met, and all of us had to watch you shamelessly flirt for months, until one of you finally realized that you both liked each other?” she asks, her voice a bit strained by the end, as she glares at Arthur.

Arthur glares back at her, hating her at the moment. He’s tense, feels it heavy on his shoulders, and his hands have curled into fists. She has no right, and she knows it, and if Merlin wasn’t right there, she’d have heard already about respecting his privacy.

“Like Gwen and Lance,” Merlin grins, “alright!”

“I made the first move,” Arthur says, eyes hard on Morgana before he looks at Merlin, his gaze softer “I told you how I felt last Tuesday. I got a speech ready, prepared for a let down—”

“And I interrupted you in the middle of it for a heavy make out,” Merlin nudges him again, “that should sound romantic enough to anyone who asks, right?”

Arthur nods, doing his best to not picture it, papers falling from his hands as Merlin’s hands curl into fists on his shirt, pulling him against his chest and bringing his mouth hard against Arthur’s. He’s not picturing it at all.

“Alright, then you guys let us know the following day,” Morgana says, “and we almost cried in relief because it  _ finally _ happened.”

“Don’t push it, Morgana,” Arthur sends her a glare.

“Yes, no one cried when I told you about Lance,” Gwen says, “he was a gentleman, and you all just congratulated me.”

She smiles, her cheeks flushing a bit, obviously remembering the incident. Arthur had forgotten that that had actually happened just last week, even if she had told him and Morgana how she confessed to Lancelot just this Monday.

“I almost did,” Merlin replies, “I’ve been cheering for you since you first met.”

“Merlin,” Gwen says, but she’s smiling.

“No, really! You two were clearly meant for each other, it was fate!”

Gwen’s smile grows, her eyes sparkling, and Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this happy. 

“I think we’re forgetting something,” Morgana says, her tone sly. “You two will need to act as a couple, how comfortable are you with touching?”

Arthur looks at her wide eyed. “..what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Morgana says, “you two need to look like you’re used to touching each other, yes? Pretend we’re at the wedding, come on,” she crosses her legs. “And Gwen and I are some of Uther’s annoying friends.”

Gwen giggles a little, and both girls look at them, shifting their positions as if they were getting into character. Arthur looks at Merlin, confused, and then back at the girls.

“Well?” Morgana asks, “go on, touch each other.”

And she complained about playing with Merlin’s feelings, as if she wasn’t doing just that with his own.

His heart skips a beat as Merlin rests a hand on his thigh, warm and very much  _ there _ , and Arthur can’t think of anything else, looking at him, breath caught in his throat. Merlin cracks a grin at him, a bit pulled to the side, and Arthur wants to press his lips to that corner.

“So, Mrs Flonderworm,” Merlin turns to Gwen, “you were telling us about your poodle?”

Gwen tries not to smile too much, as she hunches her pose a little, her voice wavering “He’s such a silly thing! Ruined all my slippers!”

Arthur still can’t breathe once Merlin moves his thumb slowly, stroking his inner thigh, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and isn’t slowly driving Arthur insane. Merlin fakes a gasp, grinning, “No, not the slippers!”

Arthur was never a religious man, but he has a profound wish to know any prayer so he could beg to whatever entity above to have mercy on him. He doesn’t know why Morgana was so worried about Merlin’s feelings, because if Merlin keeps being so casual about this whole issue, it’s Arthur who’s going to snap at some point.

He ignores Morgana’s victorious look as he tries to ignore Merlin’s hand, but the latter is much harder. He needs to put a stop to this. “Yes, Merlin here adores slippers. Are we good now?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we really needs this,” Merlin pats his knee and withdraws his hand. 

“How about that coffee now?” Arthur asks, doing a pretty good job at not looking like he’s regretting every single decision he’s made in his life.

  
  


“Ready for practice?” Arthur asks, as he saves the changes he’s made on the spreadsheet, looking at Leon over the lid of his laptop. Arthur certainly is. His sports bag is right by the side of his desk, and he feels jitterish, his leg jumping up and down, looking forward to the chance to play with their new teammates.

“Actually, “ Leon frowns, looking up from the desk he has in Arthur’s office, almost lost between the piles of money and the receipts around him, “I think we need to cancel it. Something’s not right here.”

“What is it?” Arthur closes his laptop.

“We’re missing a lot of money,” Leon says, picking up a piece of paper and looking at Arthur, “around a third of it.”

“What?” Arthur gets up, going around his desk to reach Leon’s. Leon has the habit of making sure the week’s income is in order before sending the money to the bank, and it’s usually something he does, in his own words, to relax from the heavier work. Arthur‘s not about to complain if Leon finds counting money fun, so he’s pleased to be released of that job. “How can that be?”

Leon rubs his forehead, “It’s a few days worth of money,” he says, “but it’s been locked here in your office.”

“Only you, me and Elyan have access to the safe,” Arthur says, glancing at the open safe door, getting closer to see if Leon didn’t happen to leave anything in there. “And neither of you stole it.”

“Whoever did it had the key,” Leon says, going to Arthur’s side. “It was locked properly when I opened it this morning.”

“And no one else but us have been here since,” Arthur frowns. This isn’t right. “When was the last time you opened it?”

“Exactly a week from now,” Leon says, “as usual.”

“Put everything back in the safe,” Arthur says, “I’ll bring Elyan in.”

Elyan is confused as he gets in the office, just a minute later. “We’ve been robbed? Shit.”

“Apparently,” Arthur sighs, running a hand through his hair. Their profit margin isn't spectacular, and this is probably going to put a dent on Arthur’s bank account. “Have you noticed anything?”

“You know I bring the money from the cashier in every night,” Elyan says, “I never-.. Well. Fuck. Tuesday night,” he explains, frowning guiltily, “I thought the money we had in looked a bit different than the night before, but I wasn’t sure, it’s not like I memorise how I place it, you know?” he rubs a hand over his short hair, “thought maybe I remembered it wrong, or that one of you had to handle the money for some reason. Didn’t seem important.”

“Tuesday—” Arthur stops, “...Tuesday night.” He pulls out his keychain from his trousers pocket, feeling his stomach drop as he sees the safe’s key is gone from it. “Leon, call the police.”

“On it,” Leon says, phone already halfway up to his ear.

 

Talking to the police is a mess. Arthur doesn’t know how many hours he needs to give them, explaining over and over what happened this afternoon and his own suspicions. Apparently it doesn’t help at all that it’s his key that vanished.

“Look,” he tells the officer, close to snapping, “why would I steal my own money? I need it to pay my artists, my employees, to stock the bar and keep the lights in this building, and if you don’t find the money on time, this is going to come out of my own pocket! I’ve told you who to find already, his name is Cedric Revans, he’s a performer here, I caught him in the back rooms on the right night, and I’m positive he stole my key on Monday, when he tried to feel me up!”

They jot it down, but Arthur doesn’t see much being done, besides them closing the club so now Arthur can’t even have the night’s money to make up for his loss. He lets his employees go home after being interrogated by the police, deciding to stick around until they’re done dusting for prints or finding clues, or whatever on Earth cops actually do. 

Leon decides to stay with him, and so does Elyan and Percy, and George insists on staying as well, looking both immensely proud and guilty as they overhear a cop complaining about how clean the place is. Morgana storms in, of course, goes straight to Arthur before demanding to speak to whoever is the highest ranking officer around, and goes to make sure the police is doing their damned best.

Finally someone comes up to him, asking for a way to contact Cedric, and Arthur doesn’t hesitate before giving them his number and address.

Morgana comes back to his side, crossing her arms. “So,” she says, a smile growing on her face, “should I tell Dragoon he has his spot back?”

“We’ve just been robbed, and that’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Just looking for the silver lining, brother. I told you I didn’t trust him, didn’t I?”

“We still don’t know for sure it was him.”

“Of course it was,” Morgana replies, “it’s too much of a coincidence. Why else would he grope you?”

“The majority of people happen to find me attractive, you know.” Arthur says, “and we’re not firing Cedric until the police confirm Cedric did it.”

“Arthur, don’t be like that.”

“What if he’s innocent?”

“Then we apologise and don’t take him back.”

“Morgana.”

“It’s not like he could sue us. Nothing in his contract prevents us from firing him, it’s a gig.”

“No, but it doesn’t send the best of messages to the other performers,” Leon says, handing each of them a cup of coffee as he reaches them.

Morgana takes a sip, humming. “Leon, you’re a darling.”

“And he’s right,” Arthur says, nudging Leon as he sees his pleased look. “If they think their position runs on whims, they might leave us for steadier options.”

“Fine,” Morgana takes a large sip of her coffee, “then I’m going to have a word with those officers, they need to work faster.”

Leon’s eyes are glued to her back as Morgana wanders off, and Arthur nudges him again.

“Are you ever going to tell her?”

“Are you going ever to tell Merlin?” Leon replies, turning to him. “Or is pretending to date him enough for you?”

“So you heard about that.”

“I did.” Leon pauses, before adding. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“...I know,” Arthur admits, glancing at him, “but when he offered I just…”

“You know I’ll support you no matter what,” Leon says, “even if this whole thing sounds like the shittiest idea in the world.”

“It’s not that bad,” Arthur says, and rubs his face at the look his friend gives him, “alright, it is.”

“It is,” Leon puts a hand on his shoulder. “You always jump into things head first.”

“I do not,” Arthur bristles up at Leon’s look. “Give me  _ one _ example.”

Leon lifts an eyebrow. “Alright, how about when Tristan wanted to fight you?”

“Well, he started it—”

“He sent you a note in class asking you to throw punches during lunch break and you didn’t even hesitate.”

“See, he did start it!”

“And Morgause?”

“She started it!” Arthur moves out a hand, “slapped me in the face and asked me if I was a man enough to fight her!”

“And you obviously were.”

“I couldn’t refuse to fight her because she was a girl! You know what Morgana would do to me if I said that?”

Leon chuckles, crossing his arms, “Do I need to say anything else?”

“I wasn’t the one to start any of those incidents!”

“No, and you didn’t start this one either,” Leon says, “people just give you the means, and you jump at the opportunity without thinking of the consequences. Your father had to go talk to the principal for you when you fought Tristan and broke his nose, and you lost so hard to Morgause that you closed yourself in your bedroom for days after leaving the hospital.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Arthur looks away from Leon’s knowing look. “Fine, but that has nothing to do with what’s going on with Merlin.”

“You’re going to be seeing things that aren’t there because you’re faking it,” Leon says. “You’re going to get everything you want, knowing it has no meaning.”

“It’s not like we’ll do much,” Arthur says, “no one’s going to ask for a show.”

“You’re going to be calling him your boyfriend during the entire weekend, and you’re going to act as if you actually were his.”

“If Morgana asked this of you, would you refuse it?” Arthur asks, looking at him.

Leon pauses, thinking about it, and shakes his head. “Yes. I’d want it to be real.”

“Yeah,” Arthur sighs, “so do I.”

Leon claps his shoulder. “I’ll be here for you Monday when you need me. Letting you know that I told you so.”

“You’re the best friend a man could ask for,” Arthur says dryly, “just for that, I’ll be here telling you everything we do in detail.”

“Great,” Leon grins at him, cheekily, “and then I’ll distract you with stories about what I’d like to do with Morgana.”

Arthur makes a disgusted sound, his face horrified, and Leon gives him a wink, clasping his shoulder again. Arthur shakes him off, muttering about his horrible choice in friends, not that it stops Leon from laughing, almost spilling his coffee.


	13. Many Meetings

“Wait,” Arthur pauses as they pass the gates to his father’s home, a hand on Merlin’s arm to stop him from going further. “You still have time to back out,” he says, looking at him. “Are you sure this is something you want to do?”

“I’m not changing my mind,” Merlin says, his eyes going soft as he looks at him.

“You might,” Arthur replies, “we haven’t decided limits to what we can do, I was thinking… we should have a safe word.”

“...A safe word.” Merlin manages to keep his face straight as he says that, but Arthur know he’s dying to raise an eyebrow, to crack a smile. He can see the expression clearly enough just through his tone of voice.

“Yes,” Arthur says, trying not to feel embarrassed, “something we say if we think it’s too much. If I touch you in a way you don’t want to, or if you want to stop lying...”

The soft look is back, stronger now, as if Arthur had said something particularly touching. He doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“Or for you.”

“Yes.”

“Alright. So, random words?”

“As long as they’re not too odd to say around everyone else,” Arthur says.

“Poetry,” Merlin gives him a side smile, as if he’s sharing an inside joke, and Arthur chuckles, “for touches that go too far. ...Magic, to stop pretending.”

And of course those were Merlin’s choices. He’s not surprised at all. “Alright.”

“Was that all?”

He nods again, and his hand moves down Merlin’s arm, taking his hand in his own. He tries to ignore his loud heartbeat, the warmth spreading in his chest as he waits a moment, to make sure Merlin’s alright with it. He gets a smile, and his hand squeezed gently back in return. 

“Let’s go?”

He’s glad that the lighting isn’t great in the front garden on the way to the house, because he knows his cheeks are burning, and there’s a smile very persistent on staying put in his face.

Arthur is relieved to see it’s Morgana who opens the door for them, not that he’ll tell her so, because it means he won’t be on his own when introducing Merlin as his boyfriend, and that eases his nerves a bit.

“Thank god you’re here,” she says, pausing as he notices their hands, looking far too smug as her eyes lift to look at Arthur properly. “This has been even worse than the usual family gatherings.” she grabs Merlin’s free arm, tugging them inside, “Agravaine keeps going from trying to feel me up to sucking up to Uther and Catrina as if he wants in on the action.”

“Morgana!” Arthur lets out, repulsed. There are some things he doesn’t need to ever hear.

“You’ll see for yourself,” Morgana says, and leans closer to Merlin. “Welcome to the family, dear.”

She leads them straight to Uther and Catrina, who were walking towards them, arm in arm. Catrina smiles at them, looking pleased to seem them, but Uther shows no emotion as his eyes go from Merlin’s hand in Arthur’s to Merlin himself.

“Father, Catrina, this is Merlin, my boyfriend,” Arthur says, surprisingly managing to not stutter through any of it, his heart picking up speed. 

Uther gives Merlin a hard look, measuring him up, but Merlin smiles politely, his fingers lacing with Arthur’s when he holds his hand again, after the strong handshake Uther imposed on him. His father doesn’t say anything, but Arthur knows he’ll hear his judgment on Merlin later.

“Pleasure,” Uther says dryly, “Now, if you excuse me.” he says, letting go of Catrina and moving to a table further in the room with the appetizers. 

Merlin gives Arthur a nervous look, and he squeezes Merlin’s hand, hesitating for a moment before stroking it lightly with his thumb.

“Well, dear, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Catrina says, holding out a hand for him.

Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand again to shake it, and Arthur, seeing a pattern here, decides to wrap an arm around Merlin’s shoulders instead, pleased with the warmth pressed against his side, and the way Merlin settles against him as if he’s meant to be there. 

“I’m so  _ glad _ you’re all here,” she says, looking at them, her eyes resting on Merlin longer. Arthur isn’t as put off by her as Morgana is, but he can’t stop himself from curling his hand around Merlin’s side, pulling him closer. It seems he can’t stop touching Merlin, now that he’s allowed to. “And don’t you worry about Uther, darlings, I’ll have a few words with him about your situation.”

“Thank you,” Arthur says, not knowing how else to respond.

“Yes, it’s very  _ kind _ of you,” Morgana adds, her arms crossed as she glares at Catrina.

Catrina pats Morgana’s arm. “Well, you kids have fun, I heard far too many noises from the kitchen on my way here, I just wanted to say hi before I went to deal with that.”

She gives them a smile and leaves, her dress swooping as she moves. Arthur sighs, relieved, slightly relaxing his hold on Merlin.

“Was that good?” Merlin whispers to him, looking quickly between Arthur and Morgana, “Your father didn’t even say anything!”

“It means he doesn’t disapprove of you enough to make a scene right now,” Morgana says, “you’re fine, relax.”

“That’s not great,” Merlin replies, leaning in to Arthur’s side.

“He won’t approve of anyone who isn’t female, pretty, rich and has connections.” Arthur explains, used to it.

“And I’m none of the above,” Merlin says, sounding displeased.

Arthur shakes the shoulder under his palm lightly, “Come on, Merlin. You’re pretty.”

Merlin looks at him, mouth pulling sideways to a smile. “Pretty?”

Words get stuck in his throat as Arthur looks back at Merlin. Their heads are far too close for him to think of a proper explication that won’t give himself away. He barely has to lean to nudge his nose against Merlin’s if he wants to, and he does want to. Instead he just keeps his eyes on Merlin’s.

“This is precious,” Morgana says, looking at them, and reminding Arthur they’re not exactly alone.

He looks around the room, to see who else is there. Uther and Catrina, she’s laughing at something he said, her hand moving to his chest. Agravaine is by the appetizers, sliding some cheese on a cracker. He doesn’t see anyone else in the room, but a sudden thought has him frozen still, heart pounding.

“Morgana,” he turns to her quickly, “is… is Sophia here?”

Merlin tenses under his hand, and Morgana looks at them, eyes widening, before she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Her father?”

Morgana shakes her head again.

“Then who came from Catrina’s family?”

“No one,” Morgana says, and looks conflicted for a moment, “she doesn’t have one. Told me there was a robbery at her parents house, and they were killed.”

“That’s— terrible,” Arthur says, guilty at the relief he feels about Sophia and her father not being there. If they’re all the family she’s got, they should come, even if it might make Arthur uncomfortable. It also explains her hurry to marry Uther, in a way. She wants to be part of a family again.

“It was a long time ago,” Morgana says, “but yes.”

They’re quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say on the subject, or exactly how to change it. He glances at Catrina, still holding on to Uther by his arm. They both seem happy, and it just makes him support the marriage even more. Everyone deserves a family. 

“So, who else is here?” Arthur asks.

“Agravaine,” Morgana replies, sighing. 

“Come on, then,” Arthur says, “He still hasn’t met Merlin.”

Morgana sighs again, dramatically, as he makes them all head to the table towards his uncle, but Arthur ignores it. Morgana might not like him, but Agravaine is the only family he has left from his mother’s side, and the only one who speaks of her to Arthur.

Agravaine looks warmly at Morgana like always when they stop before him, smiles at Arthur as usual when they reach him, but he stops once he notices who exactly is standing next to him.

“Arthur,” he says slowly, raising an eyebrow as he looks at Merlin. “I didn’t know you were gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he’s quick to add, smile back in his face.

“I know,” Arthur says, trying not to feel too defensive. His uncle is just surprised. “And I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.”

“Interesting. And I suppose your boyfriend isn’t gay either?” Agravaine looks at Merlin again.

“I’m not,” Merlin says pleasantly, holding a hand for him. “I’m Merlin, nice to meet you.”

Agravaine shakes it. “Pleasure. Isn’t it curious?” he looks at Morgana, after quickly letting go of Merlin’s hand, “two man dating and neither is gay.”

“It’s more common than you think,” Morgana says dryly.

“Well,” Agravaine pauses, and gives them a nod, “I’m going to check on Uther, shall I?”

Morgana pours herself a glass of wine as he leaves. “Thank god.”

“He’s a bit sleazy, isn’t he?” Merlin asks, looking over his shoulder to watch Agravaine.

“He just doesn’t know better,” Arthur says, his hand stroking softly Merlin's side before he realizes he’s doing it and stops himself. “Speaking of,” he looks at Merlin, “I never asked.”

“Asked what?”

“If you were gay.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not.” Merlin grins at him.

“You’re not straight either,” Arthur says, and Merlin nods along. “Well, then what is it? Are you one of those hippies who doesn’t like labels?”

Merlin stands a bit straighter, leaning away from him. “What if I am?”

Arthur opens his mouth, stopping as he realizes he doesn’t know how to reply to that after what he just said. “Well—”

Merlin bumps his shoulder on Arthur’s. “I’m not, actually. I’m demisexual.”

“Oh. Biromantic?” he asks.

“Pan,” Merlin grins again.

Arthur puffs out, “That’s hippie for bi.”

Merlin laughs, ducking his head as he tries not to draw attention to them. “Of course you’d say that. Prat.”

“Ignore him, Merlin,” Morgana says, touching his arm, “he’s being obtuse on purpose.”

“Here I thought it was just part of him,” Merlin says pleasantly. “I’m not sure if that’s good news.”

“Charming,” Arthur sighs, pulling Merlin closer to his side. He can’t get enough of it, of being allowed to do it, and he’s unable to stop himself from taking advantage of it. His self control is all focused on keeping his face away from Merlin’s. Up close, Merlin smells of  _ green _ , of forests and plants, a lingering scent from his work. Arthur wants to press his nose to Merlin’s hair and see what else he can identify.

“Speaking of good news,” Morgana says, looking at them with a smirk, “has Arthur told you what happened this Thursday?”

“No, what happened?” Merlin looks between them.

“I assumed Morgana would have told you already.” Arthur says, giving his sister a look.

“I figured it was best to let you tell him the good news,” she replies, lifting her glass of wine to take a sip.

“Only you’d call it that.”

“It’s not?” Merlin looks between them, confused.

“Of course not,” Arthur replies, “the club was robbed.”

“What?” Merlin looks startled, “What happened?”

“Apparently Cedric robbed us Tuesday night,” Arthur says, “when the police went to interrogate him, they found him with my safe key and most of the money.”

“Can you get the rest of it back?” Merlin asks, frowning.

“Doubt it,” Arthur replies. 

“How is that good news?”

“Merlin, darling, this is something you want to hear.” Morgana says with a smile.

“What?”

Arthur gives his sister a look before turning to Merlin again. “Monday nights are open for auditions again.”

“Is the magic show back on?” Merlin asks, eyes bright as he looks at him.

“Dragoon can audition,” Arthur says, and then the choice of words catches up to him, making him let go of Merlin, his arm dropping to his side as he gives a step away, his heart clenching in his chest. “You can go, I’ll make—”

“What?” Merlin asks, confused, and then his eyes widen. “No, wait,” he grabs Arthur’s hand, and sets his heart racing again as he curls Arthur’s arm around himself again, putting Arthur’s hand back on his hip, and his own hand over Arthur’s. “Didn’t mean it like that. We might need a new safe word.”

“...You have a safe word,” Morgana raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Arthur says, and quickly changes the subject, “And the auditions are Friday morning.”

“So late?” Merlin frowns.

“We need to have time to advertise it, and we’re not closing the club for the public again for the auditions, we’ve lost enough money as it is.”

“Yes, but—” Merlin starts, but he’s interrupted as Catrina comes to them, announcing dinner is ready.

There are only six of them, but seats are assigned anyway. Uther gets to sits at the head of the table, Catrina by his right and then Morgana, who shoots Arthur a distressed look as she sits down. Agravaine gets to be on Uther’s left, then Arthur, and then Merlin, and Arthur doesn’t want to think that his father set Merlin as far away from everyone as he could, but that’s the result in either case. He tries not to think about it.

“I thank you all for being here tonight,” Uther says, not needing to stand up to silence the room and do a speech, his voice clear and commanding as always, “Taking a relationship to a different stage is always an act of bravery, and Catrina, my courageous fiance, is taking that step with me. Tomorrow I will be married to this beautiful, intelligent woman,” he holds Catrina’s hand, who smiles at him, “and I’m glad you’re all here to support and witness it. We’re a family now.”

“Oh, Uther, darling,” Catrina squeezes his hand, bringing her free hand over to cover it. “I’m so happy to marry you, to join your family,” she finally looks away from him to smile at the rest of them, “I’m so thankful of how welcomed I feel already.”

Arthur glances over to Morgana, who is holding a blank face as she listens. He shares a look with Merlin, who raises his eyebrows at him, making the corner of his mouth twitch up. Arthur’s hand curls in his own lap, repressing the urge to rest it on Merlin’s knee.

“We’re lucky to have you,” Uther says in a warm tone. Arthur doesn’t remember it ever being used on him.

Catrina’s smile is a bit too pulled to the side. “And you’re stuck with me now.”

They motion for everyone to eat after that, and as Agravaine starts making conversation with the couple, Merlin leans in to whisper in Arthur’s ear, his breath brushing against him. “You dad sounds like a mob boss.”

“ _ Merlin! _ ” Arthur lets out, looking at him in shock, and Merlin just grins back, his teeth pressing on his bottom lip as he holds back a laugh. Arthur stares for a moment, before he turns to his food. “Why do I put up with you?”

The meal is uneventful, just filled with small talk which involved a lot of Agravaine praising the couple and causing Morgana to give Arthur wide eyed looks whenever he did it, also mouthing “sucking up” one time tas if he didn’t remember what she’d said already. Merlin snorts at this, quieting when Uther glares at him quickly with a sharp look, before smiling besottedly again at Catrina. Merlin stiffens at his side, and Arthur finally relents and presses his hand on Merlin’s knee, squeezing it.

Arthur’s surprised when there are no comments, no hard looks when afterwards they settle in the living room and Merlin curls against Arthur’s side on the couch. He’s nervous, unsure if his family truly doesn’t care or if they’re holding back until he’s alone or gone, but the lack of attention has him settle a hand on the back of Merlin’s neck, fingers playing absently with the end of his hair. 

They might not comment, but they don’t seem to get along with Merlin anyway, nor Merlin with them and soon enough Arthur makes excuses for them to leave. 

Morgana goes with them to the door, her hisses on being abandoned stopped once Catrina joins them as well. Arthur gives his sister a smirk as he hands Merlin his jacket.

“It’s sad to see you go, darlings, but we’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, hooking her arm with Morgana’s. “And it gives us girls a chance to talk, doesn’t it, Morgana?”

“It sure does,” Morgana says, her tone almost believingly pleasant.

Arthur finishes putting on his own jacket, and Merlin steps into his space, hands coming up to fix Arthur’s collar, giving him a small smile, and the moment feels so right that Arthur is overwhelmed with the need to touch Merlin, to lean in as Merlin tugs slightly on the collar of the jacket, the need to follow the movement and kiss him is so strong he has to steady the weight on his feet so he doesn’t sway forward into Merlin.

His hand still comes up and cups Merlin’s cheek, feeling the softness of his skin, the warmth as it flushes under his touch.

“You’re such a baby,” Merlin says, his hand flattening the jacket with a slow slide from his collarbone to his shoulder. Arthur’s thumb moves slowly over his cheekbone. “You can’t even get dressed properly by yourself.”

“What do you think I keep you around for?” Arthur replies, dropping his hand as Merlin steps back.

“I’m a babysitter now?” Merlin asks.

Arthur waves his hand a little, “More like a servant.”

“You two are so romantic,” Morgana says, and Arthur remembers they aren’t alone.

That Merlin just did what he did because Catrina is still right there. Arthur tenses a little, wishing Leon hadn’t been right to warn him, and gives her a tight smile. “Thank you for the dinner, Catrina.”

“Anytime, Arthur,” she says, opening the door for them. “We’re family, after all.”

“That we are,” Arthur says, his hand settling on the small of Merlin’s back as he leads him out of the house. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

The door closes behind them, and Arthur drops his hand, shoving it in his jacket pocket, fingers curling around his car keys.

“Was that good?” Merlin asks, glancing at him, “I don’t think they liked me very much.”

“They didn’t,” Arthur replies, “but it’s not you personally that they don’t like, it’s that your presence means they can’t pretend I’m straight.”

“Right. Sorry,” Merlin says, “You wanted to make a good impression, right?”

Arthur stops as they reach the car, unlocking it, and turns to look at Merlin. His shoulders are dropped, eyes a bit downcast, and his hair is sticking a little in the air, as if Merlin had just ran his fingers through it while Arthur wasn’t looking. 

“..It doesn’t matter,” he says, trying to find the right words, “because in the end is what I want that is important. The fact that I like you is more important than if they do or not.”

Merlin gives him a smile, eyes full and soft as he looks at him. “...Well, it’d still be nice if your dad didn’t glare at me so often,” Merlin walks around to get in the car, “I kept feeling like he wanted to call the police and have me arrested for  _ something _ .”

Arthur snorts and gets in the car, Merlin doing the same right after. “That’s a normal reaction to have around him.”

“Thanks for warning me ahead of time,” Merlin says.

“You’re welcome,” Arthur chuckles, pulling the car out of the parking spot. “...and thank you for coming.”

“I had fun,” Merlin smiles, “we should do this more often.”

Arthur is grinning as they finally drive off.


	14. A Long Expected Party

“Aren’t you hungry? I’m hungry. When is lunch again?” Merlin asks again, leaning in, his arm linked with Arthur’s.

“At least an hour from now,” Arthur replies, sighing, as they finally get inside the hotel. He’s already tired of the one hour drive to the place, the old palace turned hotel where his father saw fit to host his own wedding. They aren’t late, but they’re hardly the first guests to arrive, and Arthur’s immensely glad he wasn’t asked to be the best man, and is free to wander around without any responsibility for the events of the day.

“But it’s noon now,” Merlin tugs lightly on his arm, “and you refused to stop at any gas stations on the way.”

“If I did, we’d be late, Merlin, I can’t arrive late to my own father’s wedding,” Arthur explains again, “And I  _ told _ you to eat a sturdy breakfast. God, Merlin, it’s like you’ve never been to a wedding before.”

“I haven’t, actually,” Merlin replies, and as a guest passes by them he adds, “hot stuff.”

“What?” Arthur frowns as he looks at him, and then back at the guest who didn’t even listen, walking away. He looks like someone’s grandfather, not exactly  _ hot stuff _ material. Arthur glares at his retreating back anyway.

“Figured we should use pet names for each other, sugarplum.” 

Arthur slowly looks back at him, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Merlin.”

“Yeah, honey potato?”

“I should have asked Leon to be my fake boyfriend,” Arthur says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, hiding an amused smile. “He wouldn’t have done this to me.”

“I’m being sweet,” Merlin says, but he’s grinning, pressing closer to his side, “You should be so lucky to have such a considerate boyfriend, who even googled pet names to surprise you with. It’s romantic.”

“You went on google and came up with ‘hot stuff’?” Arthur replies.

“Google failed me,” Merlin says, tugging on his arm as he spots Morgana and Gwen, and starts dragging Arthur towards them. “This is all on me, little carrot.”

“Figures your pet names are as ridiculous as your insults,” Arthur says as he goes with him, “just try not to use them in front of my father, will you, Merlin?”

“Can’t promise anything,” Merlin says right before they reach the others, grinning at the girls. “Hey!”

The girls greet them with smiles, and Morgana eyes them up and down. “My, Merlin, that is a very fine suit you’re wearing. You cut quite the figure.”

Merlin grins, looking down at himself, and Arthur takes the excuse to look at him some more, the grey suit fitting Merlin just right, sharp shoulders, the slim waist, long legs and the blue tie that brings out his eyes. He doesn’t think he’ll get enough of it. “Yeah? Arthur got it for me.”

“Did he now?” Morgana shares a look with Gwen that makes Arthur defensive.

“He needed a suit to come here with me, and since he’s doing me this favour…”

“Sometimes Arthur can be so thoughtful,” Morgana grins at the other two, “when it's not me, of course.”

“Privileges of being related to me.” Arthur glanced around “how long have you been here? I was thinking of going for a walk while we can.”

“You mean you want to avoid Uther’s delightful friends.”

“Do  _ you  _ want to talk to Geoffrey?” Arthur replies to his sister.

“...I heard there's a golden fountain in the gardens,” Morgana answers linking her arm with Gwen's. “Shall we?”

They walk around the light toned building, doing their best to avoid the few people they see close by when they finally reach the gardens, everyone but Arthur snickering like idiots as they all rush to hide behind some bushes to avoid Agravaine. Arthur is the one who has to peek around the side, not able to actually step away to check if his uncle is gone because Merlin is clutching his hand. The man has gone off somewhere else, but before Arthur can tell them so, someone coughs behind them.

Arthur turns quickly to see an old man with shoulder length white hair, directing him with a eyebrow raised so high it doesn’t take long to recognize him, despite the fact it’s been over a decade since he last saw him. “Gaius!”

“Gaius?” Merlin turns as well wide eyed. “Gaius! Hello!”

Gaius’s eyebrow goes impossibly higher as he watches them all, and obviously noticing Arthur’s hand in Merlin’s. “Hello to you too, Merlin. Arthur, Morgana, Gwen. This isn’t what I was expecting to see today.”

“So you all know each other, eh?” Merlin is moving a bit on his feet, his hand gripping Arthur’s more tightly.

“Uther Pendragon is an old friend of mine,” Gaius said, “but I wasn’t counting on his son to be dating my nephew.”

“Oh, well. Surprise?” Merlin shrugs a little, smiling wide at Gaius, whose eyebrow seems to be fixed higher than it should be on his face, probably a permanent mark of having to deal with Merlin so often.

“I didn’t know you were Merlin’s boss. Or uncle,” Arthur comments, mostly to take attention away from their relationship. He doesn’t know what Merlin has told Gaius, but it certainly wasn’t that they were dating. “I hadn’t realized you were that Gaius.”

“Understandable, even if it isn’t a very common name.”

“So,” Merlin says quickly, tugging on Arthur’s hand, “Arthur and I need to go snog for a bit, duty calls, we’ll see you soon, Gaius!”

“Merlin!” Arthur lets out, a blush growing on his cheeks as Merlin drags him away, looking away from Gaius’s disapproving face to his friend.

Merlin stops behind a shrubbery, letting go of Arthur’s arm, peeking over the leaves to see if Gaius can see them. Arthur refrains from commenting on it.

“I’ve got to snog Arthur, duty calls,” Arthur repeats in a drawl, “that sounded very natural, Merlin, you’re such a good liar.”

“Better than you think,” Merlin replies, going back to his side.

“You’re an open book, Merlin,” Arthur replies, “which leads to the question: what does Gaius know?”

“I’ve talked about you,” Merlin says, “but not about what we’re doing.”

“And he’d believe we’re dating?”

“Hum,” Merlin’s hand quickly comes up, scratching the back of his head, “yeah, he shouldn’t ask too much.”

“You sure?”

Merlin nods, more easily this time, and Arthur feels some tension easing from his shoulders. Merlin most likely doesn’t talk about his love life with his elderly uncle, as most people don’t. At least not unless they’re in a relationship. Even if they’re also your boss. Especially when they’re also your boss.

He grabs Merlin’s arm, tugging him aside as he hears footsteps coming nearer. “Someone’s coming,” he explains.

“Wait,” Merlin replies then, and his hands are suddenly in Arthur’s hair, messing it up, fast and unpleasant .

“What are you doing, you idiot?” Arthur moves away, frowning, grabbing Merlin’s wrist.

“Making it look like we’ve been snogging, prat,” Merlin replies, and his free hand goes back to Arthur’s hair, this time slower, fingers sliding along his scalp with enough pressure for Arthur to lean into it.

“One would think you’d aim for my mouth, rather than my hair,” Arthur says, and Merlin’s eyes go down to look at his lips, his hand stilling in Arthur’s hair. Arthur only hesitates for a moment before he moves his hand down Merlin’s wrist, fingers brushing over his palm.

“So there you are!” Morgana startles them both with her arrival. “We were looking for you.”

Merlin drops his hand from Arthur’s hair, who steps back and tries to fix it. He avoids everyone’s eyes, knowing Morgana is most likely feeling very smug. “So, the fountain?”

“Oh, we found it while looking for you,” Morgan says, “it’s not that impressive. But we’ll take you to it, come on.”

 

The ceremony is, in Arthur’s opinion, a bit over the top. He gets to sit front row with Merlin and Morgana on either side of him, and he’s thankful again that he’s not the best man and made to stand with his father as everyone waits for Catrina’s entrance, since apparently they went for the American approach. Arthur finds it a bit surprising when his father is such a stickler to tradition, but then again, they aren’t in a church either. They’re outside in the huge gardens of the hotel, lit up beneath the surprisingly clear sky and the small breeze that carries pink rose petals around them. In any case, Catrina, as Morgana points out, loves a big entrance. There are white flowers lining up her path to the front, where a priest stands between Uther, Agravaine and a woman Arthur doesn’t know, but who must be the maid of honor.

Uther smiles warmly, eyes watering as he watches her come up to his side, taking her hand right away, and Catrina brings it up to kiss his knuckles, before they kneel down, finally turning to the priest again. Arthur has never seen his father so happy.

He drones out the priest’s speech. He’s never been a religious man, and as boring as this part of the ceremony is, at least his father had the good sense of cutting it down to the bare minimum. He’s grinning by the time the couple quickly turns to each other, Catrina’s hands on Uther’s cheeks as she pulls him into a kiss that turns hard and needy very fast, Uther’s hands roaming down her body, and Arthur has to quickly look away.

“Thanks for taking me to watch your father make out,” Merlin’s breath hits his ear as he leans in to whisper to him, “this is the most romantic date of my life.”

Arthur covers his mouth with his closed hand, coughing slightly to cover his urge to throw his head back and laugh. Morgana has to nudge his side, and Arthur leans into Merlin, throwing an arm over his shoulders, mouth pressed to his ear as he whispers, holding back his laugh, “Getting in the mood, Merlin?”

Merlin makes a ridiculous sound and turns his face into Arthur’s shoulder, his own shaking as he laughs quietly against him, hair tickling Arthur’s nose, who does his best not to join him, swallowing his own laughter and biting down a smile. Being this close to Merlin shouldn’t be this easy.

If Arthur had thought that the ceremony itself was the most boring part of the wedding, then the photoshoot was the most exhausting. Catrina hired several photographers for the wedding, who kept taking thousands of pictures of all the guests together, the newlyweds, Catrina and her most important guests, Catrina and her best friend; a weird looking man named Jonas. Arthur stood by with Merlin, Morgana and Gwen as they waited for all the pictures from Catrina's side to end, only entertained by the comments Morgana and Merlin kept making of the people and poses.

Then, of course, came Uther's pictures, and Arthur came up to the steps of the front entrance of the hotel, standing by his father's side as the camera clicked, flash hard on his face, ignoring Merlin's voice as he exclaimed encouragingly, "You look gorgeous, baby banana!"

Uther looks at Merlin as if he realized Arthur's boyfriend has a mental condition, and turned the judging stare to his son, as Morgana cracks up on his other side.

"...He's not usually this bad. Well, he's always this ridiculous," Arthur tries to explain to his father, his cheeks burning, "I think he's nervous about this big event."

"He's adorable, Uther, look at him," Morgana adds, grinning at Merlin, who waves at her. "In fact, shouldn't he come up here for a moment? Take a couple of pictures?"

"I think it's too soon to take family pictures with him, Morgana," Arthur hisses.

"He's not a Pendragon, Morgana," Uther says, clearly disliking the idea.

"Of course not," Morgana replies smoothly, as if that was exactly what she wanted to hear, "I meant he and Arthur. They're a new couple at a wedding, it'd be a sweet gesture."

"Morgana," Arthur sighs, but stops at the look his father gives him.

"I told you, Arthur, you could bring anyone who makes you happy. Bring him here," Uther replies, stepping out with Morgana. 

Arthur looks at his father's back as the man goes down the steps, not understanding how in Uther's head allowing him to take couple pictures with Merlin means accepting them together and a good idea to do at his own wedding, but before he can figure out how to voice any of it, Merlin is climbing up the steps to his side. 

"Hi, muffin top!"

"Are you calling me fat?" Arthur raises an eyebrow at him.

Merlin loops an arm around Arthur’s, grinning, “Well…”

“You’re a terrible boyfriend, Merlin, you have no skills at this.”

“I’ve already won you over, bear pie, I don’t need any more skills.”

Arthur can’t help but to chuckle. “Bear pie?”

“You two need to stop being adorable and pose for the camera!” Morgana calls out, next to the photographer who’s waiting for them, bringing Arthur back into the situation at hand.

Merlin gets an arm around his waist, and smiles brightly at the camera, and Arthur has a hard time looking away to do the same, ignoring Morgana’s knowing look. He should have asked her to go away for this part, but he didn’t think she’d cause much trouble, regretting the decision as soon as she opens her mouth again.

“Now give us a kiss!”

He feels Merlin tense against his side, his own body stiffening in response, heart hammering as he looks away from her to Merlin, who stares back wide eyed at him. Arthur’s eyes dart all over his face, knowing that they don’t have much time for reaction or planning. Curse Morgana for this.

“Come on, brother, just one for the camera!”

Merlin gives him a small, tight smile, raising his eyebrows. Arthur leans in, eyes closing as he presses a kiss to his cheek. His skin is soft against Arthur’s lips, and he’s so close he hears Merlin’s quickly inhale through his mouth. Merlin’s cheek slides against his lips as he turns his face, Merlin’s hand raising up to cup Arthur’s jaw as he moves to look at him, eyes shifting down to Arthur’s mouth as he starts to lean in.

“Poetry,” Arthur blurts out, low enough so they aren’t overheard. Merlin’s hand snaps away from Arthur’s face as if he got burnt, and gives a step back. Arthur can’t make himself look at him as he turns his eyes to his sister and the photographer. “You got one kiss. And we’re done with the pictures now.”

He keeps a hand on Merlin’s lower back as they move down the steps again, but as soon as they reach the floor he drops it away, glaring at Morgana.

“Arthur,” Merlin starts, but Arthur shakes his head.

“Sorry about that,” he says, glancing at him, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

His hand closes tightly on itself as he looks at his sister again, and he moves away in long strides before he loses control of his mouth and lets her know exactly what he thinks of this whole situation. Morgana doesn’t seem to realize it, as she hurries after him, calling his name until he finally stops, turning to her once they’re in a more secluded spot in the gardens. 

“Arthur, honestly—”

“What was that?” he asks, stepping closer to her, feeling the skin pulling on his face as he frowns, “Why would you do that? After all your sermons on playing with Merlin’s feelings, feelings you don’t even know he has, you do this to me? To us?”

Morgana shifts her stance, and Arthur knows that if he was any less mad, she’d be rolling her eyes. “I’m just tired of watching the two of you dance around this—”

“This isn’t about you.”

“I was giving you an opportunity to finally make a move!” Morgana hisses back, “You two have been all over each other since you arrived, don’t tell me you didn’t want to do it!”

“It’s fake!” Arthur’s hand swipes through the air, “It was all fake, Morgana! You complained about it enough times to know that already! Did you really think I’d like to kiss him without it meaning anything?”

“Arthur,” Morgana says, sounding mollified.

Arthur sighs. ”If it’s to happen, it should be real. Not under false pretences, and certainly not because you tell me to do it under circumstances where it’s impossible to know we both want it.” he glares at her, “ Where he can’t say no. So cut the crap, Morgana.”

“Fine. I’m sorry.” Morgana crosses her arms. “Although you said no, so it’s not—”

“Morgana.”

Morgana looks like she wants to add to that, but she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut this time. Arthur sighs again, crossing his arms, mimicking her stance as he looks up to the sky. Leon had been right to warn him, but Arthur hadn’t honestly expected much to be required of them. Hand holding and small touches, yes, but to be told to kiss, as if that was something people actually did in real life? Only when his sister’s involved, of course.

“Let’s go back,” Arthur says as he walks away, “lunch is about to start.”


	15. A Warm Welcome

Arthur and Morgana make their way back into the hotel. He knows she got his point, and he’s not exactly mad anymore, he simply doesn’t have anything else to say to her at the moment. Morgana either agrees or knows better than to start arguing with him again. Either way, they’re both silent as they finally close in on the others, Gwen touching Merlin’s arm as she spots them. He turns wide eyed before he rushes towards them.

“Arthur!” Merlin stops once he reaches him, holding out his hand as if to touch Arthur and then he stops, pulling it back to his side. His voice is lower as he asks, “Is everything okay?”

Merlin seems hesitant as he looks him over, hands twisting together as if he’s holding himself back, so Arthur sighs loudly as he throws an arm around Merlin's shoulders, pulling him to his side. “Everything’s fine, Merlin, you worry over nothing.”

“Just looking out for you, angel cub,” Merlin leans in for a moment, grinning at the look of confusion Arthur gives him at the petname. He moves his hand to rest over Arthur’s. “And if you’re fine, we have to go, lunch is finally about to start and I’m starving.”

The hotel’s dining room is filled with round tables, each covered with a white and lilac tablecloth,a flower centerpiece, and by the doors a list with everyone’s placements. They sit down with Morgana, Gwen, Agravaine, Gaius and Jonas, and it’s only slightly uncomfortable. Mostly because Agravaine is going all wrong on sounding supportive of Arthur and Merlin’s relationship, but also because of the toast he gives to the newly weds.

“Told you he wants a weird threesome with them,” Morgana says in his ear, as Agravaine goes on about how he adores seeing Uther and Catrina together. Arthur can’t really argue against her when his speech includes stuff like “keen to help them take things to the next level” and “see where their love will go”. Arthur could really do without listening to that.

Merlin isn’t much help, as always open like a book as he does his best not to laugh too obviously. At least he keeps shoving his food in his mouth at a pace too fast to leave room for talking and sharing with Agravaine what’s so funny. His uncle just looks at Merlin with a mixture of pity and disgust, and Arthur’s sure that this wedding will make all of his relatives think Merlin has some mental affliction.

Jonas goes next. He’s an uncomfortable person to look at, like a homeless man who was taken from the streets and forced into the suit he’s wearing, foreign on his body as he moves. His ears are huge and don’t fit him, unlike Merlin’s, and he hasn’t seen the man without a frown on his face, even as he now looks at the newly weds and smiles. Arthur doesn’t know him, thank God, and he’s obviously there for Catrina, so Arthur shuts out the man’s speech and looks down at his own lap, carefully preparing some small notes for his own speech, which is coming up right after.

Merlin’s hand lands over his own, giving it a squeeze, and he smiles as Arthur looks up at him. “You’ll do fine,” he murmurs, so as to not interrupt Jonas, “you can’t do worse than suggesting a threesome.”

“That’s my father and uncle, would all of you please stop with the jokes,” Arthur replies, leading the other three to snicker as quietly as they can. Now Gaius is giving him a judgemental look as if it’s his fault that they can’t keep quiet, and keep coming up with disgusting situations that are in no way happening.

People clap as Jonas sits down, and Merlin strokes Arthur’s wrist lightly with his thumb before he lets go of his hand. Arthur gets up, turning to face the majority of the room and the table where his father and his step mother sit. He takes a deep breath, trying to recall the speech he wrote down for this moment, and his mind goes blank for an incredibly long second.

“I’ve always known that my father is strong,” he says, voice clear and sure, “and nothing proves it like today. I’ve been told all my life that my mother’s passing was too much for him, that he’d never love another. Even I underestimated how strong he is, because my father picked himself back up to love again, and even though it has cost him so much in the past, he’s brave enough to do it again. Catrina,” he looks away from his father’s face to his new wife’s, relieved he can stop seeing Uther’s eyes watering, “I’ve never seen him this happy, and I have to thank you for it. You made him love you, you made him this happy. I didn’t even know he could grin this much! Did anyone?” he asks, hand holding out to point to his father, eyes moving across the crowd and the other guests agree with him by laughing. Even Uther chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s because of you he became this brave, and I know the two of you can overcome anything. Pendragons are strong, and you fit right in. Welcome to the family.”

People clap as he sits down, but he avoids their eyes, pulling his seat forward and muttering, “Not a word,” as Merlin leans in close.

“Didn’t say anything!” Merlin whispers back loudly.

“That was adorable, Arthur,” Morgana says, resting a hand on his shoulder that he’s quick to pull off.

“Don’t you start,” he replies, giving her a hard look.

“I just think you’re right,” Morgana says, resting her head on her chin as she looks at him, “Pendragons are strong. And it shows courage to follow your heart like that.”

“I mean,” Merlin says, shrugging as Arthur and Morgana stop glaring at each other to look at him. “It wasn’t that good. ‘Pendragons are strong, welcome to the family’,” he mimicks Arthur very badly, it’s mostly just a dumber look on his face as he sways his shoulders from side to side, “You really are your father’s son, beetle cake, you sounded like a mob boss with that speech.”

“Merlin!” Gwen hushes him with a disapproving look, “I thought it was rather sweet.”

“And my father isn’t a mob boss, Merlin,” Arthur says, “he runs the Camelot theatres.”

“Really? Huh,” Merlin tilts his head a little. “And Catrina?”

“Well, she—” Arthur stops, realizing he doesn’t know the answer. “...Morgana?”

“I have no idea,” Morgana replies.

“She’s the owner of the Organic Growth empire,” Jonas says from across the table, and Arthur has to lean to the side to see him over the floral arrangement. “She’s very successful.”

“I never heard of it.”

“It’s a fertilizer brand,” it’s Gaius who replies, “I use it a lot. It’s rather… potent.”

Jonas’s chest puffed out in pride. “That it is. Best brand in the Isles, if I say so myself.”

“Well, then at least we know she’s not marrying Uther for the money,” Morgana drawls out.

“Morgana!” Gwen lets out in a shocked tone.

Arthur nudges his sister with an elbow, frowning. As tired of listening to it as he is, it’s one thing for Morgana to make those comments in private, but it’s a different situation entirely when it’s in front of Catrina’s friends and at her own wedding.

Jonas’s frown grows, and he sits straighter, opening his mouth to protest when he’s interrupted by Gwen.

“Why would you even think that? They’re so in love,” she glances at the couple. Arthur does the same in time to see his father standing as he holds a hand out for Catrina to help her to her feet. Catrina brings his hand up, kissing it softly and the patting it.

Arthur turns back to the table to see most of them looking at the couple. He catches Gaius’s eyes as the older man turns back again, and he hesitates before asking “Was he like this with my mother?”

There’s a sudden quietness to the table, somehow noticeable even though no one was doing anything up to that point. It’s not like he wants to remind everyone that this isn’t his father’s first wedding, but no one really tells him much about how his father used to be, and Gaius knows.

“He wasn’t quite like this,” Gaius finally replies, slowly as if he’s being careful with his words, “he laughed and smiled, yes, but not quite this much. He was more at ease.” he pauses for a moment, “It’s not right to compare, Arthur. He loves them in different ways.”

“I know,” Arthur says, “I just wondered if he was this happy with her.”  He wonders how come he never got his father to smile.

Suddenly he feels a hand over his own, turning to look at Merlin, who just squeezes it silently. Arthur looks away with a small frown. He doesn’t want his pity, that’s not why he had asked Gaius about his mother, but at the same time he really doesn’t want to take his hand away from Merlin’s, not when his touch is so soft and warm. 

Luckily, just as Morgana undoubtedly starts saying something offensive about their father, the newly weds arrive at the table, forcing her to close her mouth after taking in a deep breath.

Catrina is all smiles as she thanks them for coming, and Uther is quiet when he’s not agreeing with her, unable to look away from his wife, eyes glistening and his smile wide. They finish the meal as the newlyweds go around the room, stopping at every table for a bit.

Gaius keeps looking at Merlin and Arthur, eyebrows raised and sighing every time his nephew comes up with another absurd pet name for him. Arthur knows Gaius wants to talk to them, but luckily so far he doesn’t get a moment alone with them to do so and discover the truth, because right after the meal ends they’re all called upon to go outside.

Morgana sighs as she and Gwen are led to the front of the crowd, downstairs where all the female guests are being gathered, Uther and Catrina slightly ahead of them. They’re far enough for Arthur to not understand what Catrina says, but whatever it is worked, because some women laugh, others cheer along. It becomes obvious what’s going on as Catrina turns around, bouquet in hand, and throws it back into the crowd.

She’s a lot stronger than she looks, and even so Catrina used far more strength than required for the task because the bouquet flies over the crowd. Arthur stares at it as, for a wild moment, it looks like it’s going to hit him, and he’s not the only one surprised as it lands on Agravaine’s arms. There’s a moment of stunned silence, before Agravaine lets out a laugh, raising the flowers up in the air with one hand. Most join in cheering, and Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand again to pull him away from the crowd so they can find his sister and Gwen again. Not that he’s particularly looking forward to hear the comments Morgana surely has on Agravaine catching Catrina’s bouquet.

Unfortunately, they’re not the only ones who think this is a good moment to evacuate, because as they manage to get into the lobby of the hotel again, they come face to face with Gaius. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

God, this hasn’t even began and Arthur already feels like he’s five years old again, when Morgana thought it’d be an excellent idea to have him swallow down the contents of one of Gaius’s mysterious jars and Arthur agreed with her because that’s what he used to do when he was little. He now feels the uncomfortable dryness of the powder on his mouth again, and the sharp tang of it’s flavour. He had swallowed a mouthful right before he started coughing, and he resists the urge to swallow in dry now. No need to show nervousness.

“What? Why? Everything is just fine—” Merlin stops as Arthur gives him a quick nudge to the side with his elbow. “Yes, absolutely, let’s talk!”

Arthur refrains from commenting as they move a bit further into the hotel, out of the lobby and into one of the common areas, away from prying eyes so they can have a bit more privacy. He’s not sure if that’s good or bad for the conversation they’ll be having. 

It’s clear Gaius has dealt with Merlin’s particular brand of stunts because all he has to do is turn to him with a raised eyebrow for Merlin to overreact and flounder around. He drops Arthur’s hand to gesture wildly as he lets out “I didn’t mean to, it was an accident!”

“You’re accidently dating Arthur Pendragon?” Gaius’ eyebrow goes higher still, somehow.

“You didn’t mean to?” Arthur asks, turning to look at Merlin properly.

Merlin looks between them at loss of what to say, and Arthur wants to sigh, wondering once more how did anyone think this farce was a good idea when Merlin is so terrible at deceiving people. He loops an arm around Merlin, pulling him close to his side. “You’re an imbecile, Merlin, but that’s nothing new. You should be grateful that for some unfathomable idea I like you enough to overlook it.”

“Hey, I’m a catch!” Merlin protests, but he’s more at ease, some of the nervousness leaving his shoulders as he smiles a little.

“Clumsy as you are, I’m sure it’s be that or constantly fall on the floor instead.”

“Hmm, so funny, you’re hilarious, Arthur,” Merlin hums, nodding, “I’m very lucky to have you, yeah.” He pauses and turns to Gaius again, looking down for a moment, and then speaking almost shyly, “...it wasn’t that accidental.” Another pause. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I didn’t exactly mean to like him this much. He’s a bit of a prat, you know,” he stage whispers the last part to his uncle, giving him a look as if he’s used to go around apologising for Arthur’s behaviour. Arthur lifts his hand from Merlin’s waist to push on the back of his head, forcing it down a bit in warning. Merlin straightens up and gives him a glare before he looks at Gaius again. “See what I mean?”

“I see,” Gaius says slowly, giving them both a long look, drawing his own judgment of the situation, before he sighs, crossing his arms. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect this to happen.”

Merlin makes a squeaking sound, his cheeks turning red. “No, Gaius, no you didn’t—”

“You did?” Arthur can’t help but to ask, a smirk growing on his face.

“Of course I did, Merlin keeps talking about you—”

“Complaining!” Merlin interrupts him, his voice a bit higher than usual “Complaining about you!”

“Really now,” Arthur says, his face is stretched into a smile, unable to hold back the smug tone, the warm feeling blooming in his chest.

“Gaius—”

“Alright, my boy, I’ll stop embarrassing you,” Gaius says, his voice filled both with amusement and fondness. “And let you go back to the party and have some fun. We’ll speak later.” 

“Yeah, see you, Gaius!” Merlin is far too quick to get a hold of Arthur and drag him out of the  room before Gaius changes his mind, Arthur assumes, letting out a rather loud relieved sigh once they’re away, finally slowing them down.

“So,” Arthur lets go of Merlin’s hand to throw an arm over his shoulders, “you talk often about me, Merlin?”

“Yeah, about your enormous ego,” Merlin replies, but there’s not much heat to it.

“Call it whatever you will, Merlin, if it makes you feel better about it,” Arthur says, far too pleased with this new knowledge. It might not mean anything in regards to Merlin’s feelings about him, but it certainly doesn’t mean anything bad either.

He leads a protestful Merlin outside again, so they can find the others, but the evening guests seem to have arrived, for there are far more people loitering in the gardens than before. Which means, of course, that now it’s going to be even harder to find Gwen and Morgana. They have a hard time walking around looking for them, avoiding guests eager to talk to Arthur or to gather gossip about him and Merlin, and Arthur is about to pull out his phone and actually call his sister when Catrina spots them.

“There you are!” she rushes to their side the best she can, holding up part of her dress, “We’ve been looking everywhere for the two of you, did you go off to have a little one on one?” she laughs as she puts a hand on the arm Arthur doesn’t have on Merlin, “Don’t worry, boys, I won’t tell my husband.” she gives them a wink, and Arthur doesn’t really know how to reply to that.

“He just can’t take his hands off me,” Merlin says, and it almost sounds like a hardship, sighing, “and who am I to say no?”

“Merlin,” Arthur hisses.

“Oh, it’s alright,” Catrina starts leading them away, by Arthur’s arm, “just as long as you come with me, yes?”

Not seeing another choice, they follow her around the gardens until they come across a bench, where Morgana, Gwen and a blond woman around their age are sitting down on, all looking both bored and uncomfortable. 

The stranger is rather beautiful, with big blue eyes, long curled hair, a perky nose and full red lips. If Merlin hadn’t annoyed his way into Arthur’s life, he’d probably be interested in her. As it is, he’s a sad idiot who’d rather have Merlin under his arm, by his side, even in fake circumstances.

“Arthur, Merlin,” Catrina says, letting go of him at last, “this is Vivian, Olaf’s daughter.”


	16. Dance All Ye Joyful

“Anyone got four?” Vivian asks, tilting her head to swing her blonde hair over her shoulder. As everyone shakes their head she sighs, eyes looking up at the ceiling, and goes to pick a card from the deck.

Each time Vivian opens her mouth to speak it makes Arthur incredibly grateful to have refused his father’s request to have her as his date for the wedding. He hasn’t said anything because he just knows Merlin will make some comment comparing Arthur’s personality to hers, but Vivian is arrogant and snobbish and has been far too spoiled. All of this made very visible in the way she huffs and sighs and looks at the group with disdain, even though no one has said or done anything inappropriate. It’s not very difficult, taking in account all they’re doing is playing cards.

Catrina grouped them together because apparently the five of them are the only guests younger than forty years old at the wedding. At least she was thoughtful enough to lead them back into the hotel and request several decks of cards for them to entertain themselves with. “It’s not much longer until we cut the cake, I promise!” she said before leaving them be.

Go Fish is a boring ass game in Arthur’s opinion, but it’s the only game they all know the rules to that isn’t played in pairs. Gwen, bless her soul, has been trying to include Vivian in their conversation and to actively participate, but no one else is showing any enthusiasm in it. Not even Vivian. Poor Gwen is starting to look increasingly annoyed, to those who know her best.

“Seven?” she asks, looking at the group with a small smile, to hide away her growing lack of tolerance for Vivian’s antics. 

Arthur glances at his hand, filled with sets of twos and aces, and shakes his head, putting it down before he turns back to the house of cards he started building a few rounds ago with one of the extra decks on the table. He carefully sets two new cards on the third floor, grinning once the whole thing doesn’t fall down. Again. It’s a bit hard to build it up when Merlin is sitting right next to him.

“You’re in luck,” Merlin pulls out a card from his hand, turning it quickly between his fingers to reveal the seven of spades. Gwen grins, holding out a hand to take it, but Merlin pulls back, turning the card into the palm of his hand swiftly with a twist of his fingers, his fist then closing over it and crumbling the card.

Arthur, even though he’ll deny it for as long as he can, had his own hands stilled, holding two cards in the air as his eyes could not look away from the fluid, practiced magician movements of Merlin’s hand. He’s embarrassed by it, but there’s something very attractive about the agile and quick movements of Merlin’s fingers, but he’s pulled away from it as Merlin actually ruins a card. He looks up to his face, frowning. “Merlin.”

Merlin smiles wide at him. “Don’t worry, winnie boo,” he says, before turning to Gwen again. “Check behind your ear.”

Gwen smiles brightly, her fingers moving through her hair to reach the back of her ear, curling around it before her smile turns to a grin, gaping a bit as she slowly pulls out a card. She stares at it, letting out a laugh, and turns it to show the others it was the seven of spades Merlin had crumbled up.

“You do magic?” Vivian speaks up, for the first time not looking like she’s praying for an excuse to leave, a look of awe and excitement on her face making her even prettier than before. “How did you do that? Do one for me.”

Merlin hesitates, glancing at Arthur quickly before looking away, growing a little tense. Arthur feels a sudden wave of shame for being the one making him like this. Magic tricks are something Merlin enjoys, and Arthur has done nothing but bash on them ever since they met. He still doesn't think it's alright to have a stage performance on it, but there's nothing wrong with Merlin enjoying it, or doing some tricks, he figures. Everything has it's place, and magic tricks seem right in Merlin's hands. He puts down the cards he was holding, careful to not bring down his house of cards, and nudges his shoulder against Merlin's. "Go on, honey," he adds the pet name just to see Merlin's startled look, his growing blush, and decides it's about time to turn the game around, "do some magic."

Merlin turns to look at him, really look, and Arthur's sight gets stuck on Merlin's eyes, both quiet as they look at each other. He wants to encourage Merlin to do the thing he likes, and there's something in Merlin's gaze that makes him want to look at him as long as he can.

"So?" Vivian asks, making both of them jump slightly and look away, towards her instead, "are you doing it?"

"Yeah, sure."

Morgana, on Arthur's other side, looks incredibly smug as she hands Arthur another deck, so he can pass it over to Merlin. She doesn't say anything, but Arthur knows she's probably saving it to rub it in his face later. Arthur passes the deck to Merlin, their fingers brushing as he does so, and he lets them linger for a while, eyes on their hands, before he looks up to Merlin's face. He pulls his hand away and looks down for a moment, so he doesn't get stuck staring at Merlin's face again.

Instead, he can't look away from Merlin's hands, as he shuffles the deck, fingers curling and moving like a professional as he flips the cards and sorts them back into the deck, his thin wrists turning. Arthur swallows in dry, not sure of where to look at all at this point, seeing as nothing will help with his attraction to Merlin. Looking away as he performs a trick will only make him seem like he doesn't approve of it yet again, but staring at Merlin is getting him flustered and that's not a good response either.

"Okay, so," Merlin fixes the deck and then spreads it in his hands, holding it out face down to Vivian. "Pick two cards."

Vivian brings a hand to her mouth, the other hovering over the cards as she looks at them carefully, almost jumping in her seat with excitement. She pulls out two cards, from separate parts of the deck, and looks at them.

Merlin brings the deck back together, shuffling it again. "Show us the cards."

She turns it to show them a queen of hearts and a six of spades. "Now what?"

Merlin hands her the deck. "Place them where you want them and shuffle it, then give it back."

She carefully inserts the cards back into the deck, and shuffles. She simply moves blocks of cards to different orders, without any of Merlini's finesse, and hands it back.

Merlin holds the deck in one hand, the other moving lightly next to it as if he's invoking a spell, eyes closing before the hand quickly shoots towards the deck, and pulls back with two cards. He lifts them so they can see, opening his eyes and grinning as he reveals the cards she had picked.

Vivian clasps her hands together, smiling widely. “Another!”

But before Merlin can even think of a reply, a voice speaks from behind him and Arthur. “You perform tricks,” Uther says in a very neutral tone.

Arthur freezes, and slowly turns on his seat to look at his father. He can’t believe he was so immersed in watching Merlin that he didn’t notice his father coming in. Did he see the whole trick? Was he there when Arthur encouraged Merlin to do it? 

“I do,” Merlin says, after a quick glance to Arthur that he can’t quite interpret. 

There’s another long silence, and Arthur is surprised when Merlin doesn’t fidget at all as he ends up in a stare off with Uther Pendragon. Morgana shifts, shoulders pulled back as she opens her mouth, and Arthur nudges her lightly. Whatever she has to say will only antagonize their father even further. Arthur wants to speak up, but he doesn’t know what to say himself. He doesn’t know how to alleviate the situation.

“He’s quite good,” Arthur says then, regretting it as soon as the words leave his mouth, and his father’s eyes harden.

“We’re cutting the cake in the dining room,” he says dryly, and leaves the room without another word.

Arthur turns to sit straight, facing the table again, eyes downcast to the cards on it. He knows he’ll never really make his father proud, it’s something he’s grown used to, but it’s always disheartening when he’s faced with his father’s disappointment. It makes him feel like he’s failed again, even if he hasn’t actually made a mistake. Arthur gets up abruptly, his legs bumping against the table knocking down his house of cards.

“Come on, we shouldn’t miss that.”

They work quickly on organizing the decks and tidying up the table before they start walking out of the room. Just as they step away from the table, Merlin’s fingers slide across his palm and tangle themselves with Arthur’s. For a moment Arthur almost pulls away, remembering his father’s cold eyes, but he holds back the reaction, squeezing Merlin’s hand instead. He feels better about it when he’s rewarded with a small smile.

“Sorry,” Merlin says, his tone low enough to stay between them.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Arthur tells him, “it’s hard to get his approval.”

Merlin’s gaze turns sympathetic, and Arthur sighs, turning his head away and pinching the bridge of his nose. Although true, he didn’t mean for it to come across that way. He’s not looking for pity.

“Where do you think Arthur got his petty opinions on magicians, Merlin?” Morgana asks, as they follow the others guests to the dining room. “It’s all because of Uther.”

“So that’s how it all began,” Merlin hums, pressing his shoulder into Arthur’s, “and it turns out you’re a big softie, doesn’t it? You got nothing on  _ that  _ reaction.”

“Well, I think he’s entitled to his own opinion,” It’s Vivian who speaks up, surprisingly, seeing as she was so excited about the magic tricks. “He runs the most prestigious theater in the country, so he’s got the right to decide what’s good or crass. Daddy and I visit Camelot often, and the shows are always dazzling.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t add anything to it. She didn’t say anything he hasn’t said before, and even used to make the same point, but he finds himself wanting to defend Merlin and his magic against her. Against his father even. Luckily he doesn’t have to do so at the moment, as they stop right then, arriving just in time to see the newlyweds cutting the three story  white cake. He’s relieved, because what he wants is to drop the subject entirely. He might want to defend Merlin, but if it comes to an argument, his feelings on the subject are muddled enough that he’s not sure where he’ll stand.

The room where they had dined has been rearranged while everyone was outside. The tables are pushed against the walls and there are fewer chairs around, the room cleared to open up a space to dance in the middle. In one of the corners there’s a live band playing. After they eat the first slice, Uther takes Catrina to the dance floor. Helen, Uther’s favorite singer at Camelot, is with the band now, as they have their first dance. Soon enough others join in.

“One dance,” Gwen smiles as she holds Morgana’s hand, taking her away, and they laugh as they pass through the guests.

Merlin turns to him, raising his eyebrows. “Are we going to dance too, lemon bambi?”

Arthur looks down at his feet and sighs. “Wish I had brought sturdier shoes. You’re going to stomp all over my feet, aren’t you, Merlin?”

The song in the background is heavy on classical influences, and the couples on the dance floor are ballroom dancing. Arthur doesn’t know how well acquainted Merlin is with those styles, but he doubts he’ll come out without some bruises on his feet. Doesn’t stop him from grabbing Merlin’s elbow and taking him to the dance floor though.

“You’re the one who’s heavy enough to actually hurt if that happens,” Merlin says.

Arthur raises an eyebrow as they stop on the dance floor, turning to face each other. “Are you calling me fat? Again?” he adds, remembering the incident with the photographs.

Merlin grabs one of his hands, the other going to Arthur’s waist. “I didn’t exactly say that…”

Arthur just raises an eyebrow as he pulls Merlin’s hand from his waist, holding it away from it. He practically heard a ‘but’ in there.

“But if the shoe fits…” Merlin says, unable to hold back a grin.

“I’ll show you where the shoe fits,” Arthur replies, bringing one of Merlin’s hand to his shoulders.

They struggle for a moment, both trying to to lead without conceding to the other, at least until Arthur manhandles Merlin, grabbing one of his hands and placing the other on his waist. “There’s no way you’re leading this, Merlin, you’d waltz us right into a wall.”

Merlin is still complaining as they finally start moving, dancing carefully at first, but to Arthur’s surprise Merlin isn’t a complete disaster when it comes to it. It probably has to do with the fact that he can’t wave his arms around, and that he’s following Arthur’s lead, but in either case, he’s confident enough in them to speed up to keep pace with the music, and to include more steps than moving from side to side.

Dancing is probably the most couple like thing they have to do at the wedding, Arthur realizes as the first song fades into the second, and they’ve been quiet for a while. It’s something else, being this up close to Merlin, to finally have some excuse for the incredibly long eye contact they always seem to lapse into. Arthur finds himself pulling Merlin closer with the hand curled on his hip without meaning to. 

Halfway through the song, Merlin, still with his eyes on Arthur’s, slowly slides his hand from his shoulder to the side of Arthur’s nec., His hand is warm as it presses against it, thumb brushing on the skin right below his ear. It feels intimate, possessive. It feels like something big is happening, and Arthur leans slightly into it, his own hand tightening on Merlin’s waist, Merlin’s chest pressing against his own.

It’s only because he’s been looking into Merlin’s eyes that he notices them glancing down quickly at his mouth, and Arthur’s leaning in closer before he knows he’s doing it, head tilting up slightly because of the infuriating inches Merlin has on him. He only realizes what he’s doing as his nose brushes against Merlin’s and for a glorious moment he feels Merlin’s shuddered breath, warm against his mouth. Arthur’s eyes almost flutter closed before he catches himself, and forces himself to turn his head slightly to the side. His cheek presses on Merlin’s, rubbing against it as he leans forward to get his mouth closer to Merlin’s ear.

“I’m surprised you haven’t stepped on me yet,” is what he comes up with to say, to have an excuse for getting so close to him. Merlin’s hair tickles lightly against Arthur’s nose. He allows himself one moment before he pulls back, getting some bearable distance between their faces. He can’t make a move on Merlin while they’re pretending, where he can’t say no. He has to remember that.

Merlin’s gaze is heated when he looks back at him, and it takes him a moment to reply. “Don’t tempt me,” he says, his voice a few octaves lower. 

And Arthur wants to laugh, because he’s the one who’s been tempted all goddamn day, with the man he’s fallen for right in his arms, constantly touching him, without being able to do anything about it. It’s getting harder and harder to remind himself that it’s all fake, that they’re only pretending, when every touch feels right, natural, and he doesn't know if he’s glad or not that the event is almost over.

“You or fate?” Arthur asks, “Because I didn’t think you were that clumsy on purpose.”

Merlin’s foot lands hard on Arthur’s, and he lets out a laugh, grinning as Arthur jumps, sputtering under his breath.  “Oops. Such a terrible accident. Fate’s really got it against you, sugar monkey. You alright?”

Arthur mutters under his breath, his foot throbbing. Merlin really didn’t go easy on him, and if they weren’t stuck in the middle of a dance floor he’d be regretting it already. “How about we go sit down for a bit. Wait until fate’s kinder to me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Merlin says, letting go of his hand as they start moving towards the tables. “Fate got you that face, so I don’t think it ever wants to be kind to you.”

Arthur has to chase him down most of the way after that, holding back his laughter.


	17. The Breaking of the Fellowship

“Go on, say it,” Arthur says, turning slightly in his seat.

Leon leans back in his chair, grinning. “I told you so.”

Arthur chuckles, grabbing his drink and takes a sip. “I had fun. It wasn’t as tormenting as you said it’d be.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard from Morgana.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow looking at him. It’s Monday night, and the both of them have been working for most of the day, only taking the evening to come down a bit, as clients started coming in, and the responsibilities of the club were passed to those tending them. Where Leon found the time to gossip with Morgana Arthur doesn’t know.

“And what did my sister tell you?”

“That you almost kissed Merlin.”

Arthur briskles. “Well, she tried to make us—”

“Not then,” Leon grins, “later, while dancing. Said you were all over each other, Arthur, is that true?” his voice changes as he speaks, the grin turning into a smirk.

“Don’t sound so smug, you already did the I told you so bit,” Arthur replies, looking away. “It was— it felt real.”

“But was it real?” Leon asks.

“I think so.”

If there’s one thing Arthur can’t regret about taking Merlin to the wedding is that it changed things between them. He might have despaired every time Merlin touched him, but that was because Merlin usually wasn’t a very tactile person, unlike Arthur. But he had done it at the wedding, and maybe he got used to it, or got caught up in the act, and hasn’t stopped since. Merlin came to the club this evening, and his hands seemed to always find themselves on Arthur for some reason; on his shoulder or thigh, his hand, his arm, one time resting lightly on Arthur’s waist and then the memorable moment where he turned to Arthur, fingers grazing his forehead lightly as he touched his hair. If Merlin hasn’t realized this wasn’t something he used to do, it’s not Arthur’s who’s going to remind him.

Merlin had just left ten minutes earlier, eyes soft and with a fond smile as he called Arthur a dollophead. Arthur had been surprised to discover he had missed Merlin’s personal brand of insults, something that had been absent during the wedding. Merlin’s hand had lingered on Arthur’s arm.

“I’m going to woo him,” Arthur says.

“Woo him?” Leon chuckles, “are we at the medieval fair again?”

“Shut it, Sir Leon,” Arthur says. “I need to figure out how to express my feelings.”

“Feelings.” Leon repeats slowly.

Arthur nods. “Feelings. To Merlin.”

Leon was silent for a long moment. “Am I supposed to know how to do that? I don’t know him like you do, Arthur.”

“Never tried to do this with a bloke,” Arthur says, “what should I do?”

“How about telling him how you feel?”

Arthur considers this, frowning a little. He feels like doing that would mean skipping some steps, like bringing Merlin flowers or something. Most likely Merlin would laugh in his face and miss the whole point of the gesture, but there has to be something he can do.

“Just like that?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Arthur pulls out his phone, opening the texting app and typing a message to Merlin. 

Leon leans forward, eyes widening. “You’re not doing it by message, are you?”

“Of course not.” Arthur is looking down at his phone again in an instant, as it buzzes alerting Merlin replied, telling him he’s at home.  _ ‘I’m there in 20’ _ Arthur types back, and slips the phone back in his pocket. “I’m off.”

“Where?” Leon watches him as Arthur gets up. 

“Going to tell Merlin,” Arthur says. He goes to his office to grab his things, and Leon wishes him luck as he passes by him on his way out.

The car trip from the club to Merlin's place is taken in silence. Arthur keeps the radio turned off, even as the rumble from the motor and the sound of his own heartbeat sound increasingly louder in his ears. He's tense, trying to figure out his next move on his way there, but no words come to mind. He knows what he wants, and he can see it pretty clearly in his head, Merlin opening his door, Arthur cupping his face quickly with both hands and pressing their mouth together in a hard kiss before either of them has a chance to say anything. Arthur isn't so good with knowing what to say, and he's more comfortable with taking things into his own hands and showing rather than telling. This situation, however, could be pretty awkward without them actually talking about this thing Arthur is sure is growing between them. It's not exactly right to just kiss him without knowing if he's welcome to.

On his way up the lift to Merlin's flat he still hasn't figured out exactly what to say, but he's not worried. He figures he'll know as soon as he sees him, and the words will come to him and he’ll let them out, honest. He's standing straight as he rings on Merlin's bell, taking a deep breath as he opens the door.

"Hi," Merlin says, looking both pleasant and confused as he steps aside to let him in.

The words don't come. Merlin is oddly beautiful, in a way that isn’t obvious until he shifts, ungraceful and clumsy. When he smiles, his blue eyes closing in half moons, ducking his head slightly, showing the dark ruffled hair Arthur wants to sink his fingers into, full lips stretched, he makes Arthur’s heart race at the sight. Arthur doesn’t know how at first he could have dismissed him as he did. Merlin deludes everyone at first glance.

“What is it, something on my face?” Merlin asks, hand going up to rub his cheek.

Not yet, Arthur thinks, eyes on his fingers before he looks at him in the eye. “Merlin. There’s something I have to tell you.” he pauses, searching for words, and he’s not exactly proud of how they come out, “For a while now I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

“Fond?” Merlin asks, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur nods, not letting himself slip into the playful mood Merlin is in. It’d be rather easy, and then he’s not sure he could say what he came here to say. He steps closer to him, his hand touching Merlin’s lightly, curling around it. “Yes. Merlin, I need you to know—”

“Oh.” Merlin says, face going carefully blank, eyes down at his hands. He shifts his fingers lightly to curl around Arthur’s for a moment, before he slips them away, and Arthur doesn't know if that’s a good or a bad sign. “That’s— hm, that’s—”

“Merlin, will you shut up and let me talk? I came here to tell you that I’m in—” he’s stopped, Merlin’s hand closing over his mouth.

“I have something to tell you first,” he says.

Arthur lowers his hand, a smile tugging on his lips as he feels more and more hopeful. “Merlin, this isn’t a competition, will you let me speak—”

“I’m Dragoon,” Merlin says.

Arthur stops to look at him, still holding Merlin’s wrist in his hand. That was not what he had expected Merlin to say at all. “What are you talking about?”

“It was me,” Merlin says again, his voice wavering slightly, “You have to know that, before—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur says, lowering Merlin’s hand with his own. This conversation has taken a completely different turn from what he was expecting, and he doesn't understand why it happened. Is Merlin turning the conversation away from the topic because he doesn’t want to hear about how exactly Arthur feels from him? “Why would you say that?”

“I’m Dragoon. I met you at the club that night right after my first performance. It’s always been me.”

Arthur steps back, letting go of Merlin’s wrist. “I don’t understand.”

“Okay, wait—” Merlin steps further into the flat. “Wait a second.”

He dashes off pass the door that leads to his bedroom, even though Arthur himself has never been in there. He steps slowly after him, not sure if he should go in the room. He’s stopped before he gets to decide by Merlin coming out, holding a bag in his hand.

“Look, here,” he says, opening it and turning it upside down. From the bag, falls a grey wig, a beard, and a magician suit Arthur has seen on his own stage. Arthur looks down at it from a long moment, and then up to Merlin’s face, not sure what conclusion it’s alright to take. 

“You’re Dragoon?”

“Yes,” Merlin says, shoulders sagging with relief. 

“All along.”

“Yes, just ask Morgana—”

“Morgana,” Arthur says, his voice going cold.

“Yes, she knew I did magic, and she said it’d be perfect if I performed at the club,” Merlin is rambling, anxious as explains himself. “And I did, and then we met and you—”

“You didn’t tell me,” Arthur says slowly, “you got so defensive, but you didn’t—”

“I thought you knew! I thought you knew you were telling me about the show, but then Morgana told me you didn’t and she thought— we thought it’d be—”

“Fun. To lie to me,” Arthur finishes for him, anger and betrayal surging through him as he finally becomes aware of the feeling growing inside him. “You thought it’d be fun to make me a fool and laugh about it with Morgana behind my back.”

“No, Arthur—”

“See how long it takes for Arthur to find out what you’re doing, how dumb can he be for not realizing it?”  Arthur steps forward as he speaks, his hand shaking slightly as it closes into a fist, “How stupid he’ll feel when he finds out, huh? That’ll be a laugh!”

“Arthur, I tried to tell you before—” Merlin’s voice is wavering as well, and he moves closer as well, one hand closing on Arthur’s.

Arthur snaps his hand back quickly, stepping away. “Yeah, tried very hard, didn’t you?” he asks, the moment Merlin speaks of coming to mind, “when you wanted your job back, and you didn’t even do a good job at trying—”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me, Arthur,” Merlin says, stepping closer again. At least now he keeps his hands to himself.

“Not your fault?” Arthur’s voice raises, “Not your fault you’ve been lying to me since the day we met, that you wedged your way into my life, made me feel—” he stops abruptly, because Merlin doesn’t deserve to know. He’s suddenly incredibly glad that Merlin had interrupted him because it’s no longer something he wants to share and he wouldn’t be able to take it back. One less thing for Merlin to mock him for. “Made your deceit even more meaningful.”

That was too much to say, he realizes as soon as he says it, still gives too much of him away,  and he turns to leave Merlin’s flat in quick steps. Merlin follows him.

“Arthur— no, I just wanted to know why, to know  _ you— _ ”

Arthur storms past the front door, reaching for the lift. Merlin grabs his arm, and Arthur shakes it off harshly, going towards the staircase instead, so he doesn’t have to wait for the lift.

“Arthur—” his eyes are tearful as he tries to get a hold of Arthur’s jacket.

“Leave me, Merlin,” Arthur closes the door loudly behind him, the sound echoing as he hurries his way downstairs. He doesn’t hear another set of feet coming after him, and Arthur tells himself he’s relieved.

He stops for a moment once he’s outside again, the cold air hitting his face and he feels like he can’t breathe, leaning forward, a hand over his chest. The moment passes and then he stands straight away, and makes his way into his car. He feels strangely calm as he finds himself looking at his own reflection through the rear-view mirror, and easily looks away before driving home.

  
  


“Arthur, you’re being ridiculous,” Morgana opens his office door wide.

Anger curls in the pit of his stomach as his sister storms in. He knows he's more prone to lash out than usual, having barely slept at all, after his confrontation with Merlin, every moment they had where Merlin lied to him coming to mind as he laid in bed. Morgana played a key part in the situation, and Arthur feels her betrayal strongly. 

"Shut up," he says. "You lied to me for months, you used me as a joke. Was it worth it?"

"Arthur, I just wanted you to see magic--"

"Don't lie!" Arthur gets up, "You could have done that and been honest, you didn't have to lie at all about Merlin, he didn't have to lie. You didn't have to make a fool of me!"

"We didn't see it like that, honest--" Morgana strides quickly to his desk.

"Morgana, quiet," he says firmly. "I'm not firing you because this isn't about your job, but all I want to hear from you is business. Anything else you can keep to yourself."

“Arthur—”

“If it’s not work related, I don’t want to see you.”

“Well too bad, because you’re being an idiot—”

“You can’t keep doing this, Morgana!” he explodes, “storming in and insulting me doesn’t make you right! You’re not right all the time just because you’re passionate about whatever bullshit you want to argue about! You lied to me, you’ve been making an idiot out of me for months!” Arthur walks around the desk to confront her without it between them. “You kept going on and on about playing with Merlin’s feelings, and for what? You’ve been doing it with me all along, you and him both! He making me fall for him and you urging me to tell him when he was lying to me from the moment we met?”

“Arthur…”

“I don’t know how could you do this to me, Morgana,” Arthur says, deflating. “You’re my sister.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it,” Morgana says, “we didn’t mean to hurt you. Merlin called me last night, told me what happened. If you just spoke to him—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” his voice is hard again. “If that’s all you’ve got to say you can go now.”

She starts going back to the exit, knowing it’s useless to press at this point. “It wasn’t meant to go this far.”

“Just leave, Morgana.”

"This isn't over," she says weakly, but she leaves anyway.

Arthur steps back so he can lean back, sagging against his desk, hand pushing firmly into his own hair. It's stupid, how much the whole thing hurts. Any other day he would be at the bar at this time, with Merlin by his side as he listens to him complain about working for Gaius. He finds himself constantly looking to his side to share a look with him, to see those ridiculous ear and his wide smile, his skin soft under Arthur's touch. The whole day he kept reaching for his phone to send him a text, only to remember the previous night by the string of texts he’s been getting from Merlin. It's funny, really, that Arthur spent a weekend trying to tell himself that what they had between them was fake, only to discover it applied to their entire relationship. No wonder Merlin had been so good at pretending, he'd been doing it all along.

When a knock comes through his door, Arthur realizes he's been staring at his desk in silence for a while. He's not sure how long it's been. "Come in."

Leon steps in the office, and gives him a long look. "Ready to talk about it?"

"No."

Leon sits down on the sofa next to the side of the desk, as he's done many times before. At least Leon is a constant, Arthur trusts him. But, then again, he trusted Merlin too. And he never thought Morgana would go this far with a joke on him.

"Morgana told me." Leon says, his tone careful, and continues only when Arthur looks at him. "I never thought they'd..."

"Yeah," Arthur says, and pauses, before asking. "Did you know?"

"Arthur, if I had any idea they were keeping this from you--"

"No, I know that," Arthur says. "I mean, did you know he was Dragoon?"

Leon shakes his head. "I had my doubts, but then when he insulted you..."

"That should have been the biggest sign," Arthur mutters.

"Merlin was never really disrespectful. Not like that."

"Apparently he was holding it back," Arthur replies dryly.

Leon is quiet. Either he doesn't know how to defend Merlin or he doesn't want to. In any case Arthur is thankful, because he doesn't want to hear about it. Leon knows him well. He gets up. "Come on."

"What?" Arthur looks at him.

"Let's go. We're both out of working hours and we need to get your mind off this. Let's go practice to let off some steam and then go get drunk in a place where we're not employed. Let's go."

Arthur gets up, not finding much to go against. "The whole team is available?"

"I didn't mean football, Arthur," Leon says. "It's going to be just us. We're going to spar."

Arthur's heartbeat picks up its pace, somehow finding himself feeling excited. "It's been a while," he says, walking beside Leon as they lock his office.

"Too long," Leon replies. "We'll both be rusty, but that's no excuse."

"Still going to kick your ass," Arthur says.

He feels a bit lighter as they leave the building. His phone chimes with a new text message, and Arthur ignores it, as he’s been ignoring the constant stream he’s getting from Merlin all day long. It’s easier to do it while looking forward to a sparring match with Leon. He takes a deep breath, and picks up his step to catch up to his friend.


	18. Inside Information

Merlin stops trying to contact him on Wednesday. About time Merlin finally decided to stop pestering him, seeing that Arthur has been mass deleting his messages without opening them for the past two days. He’d been relieved to find out that Merlin finally figured Arthur needed his space and respected his wishes to stay away from him, but this coincides also with the day Morgana stops coming into his office every minute of the day with a new excuse to talk to him. 

Today she’s been doing the thing she always did with their father when she was breaking the rules behind his back, where she’s pleasant and gives out compliments and assurances easily, but then smiles for too long. There’s always a pause before she speaks, and she looks at him when she thinks he won’t notice it. Morgana is up to something with Merlin, which isn’t surprising these days. It shouldn’t have been surprising at all from the beginning.

There’s a soft knock on his office door, and Arthur takes a second to run a hand through his hair before he replies. “Who is it?”

“Arthur? It’s Gwen,” comes the voice from the other side of the door.

“Come in.” Arthur gets up, moving towards the door as he wonders why she is here. It’s not usual for Guinevere to come into his office, much less without Morgana beside her. He’s wary of what he’ll see when the door opens, but it’s just Guinevere, closing the door behind them and then hugging him tightly.

Arthur works through his surprise, his hands moving slowly to rest on her lower back. His arms feel heavy and limp as he works them around her. Intense and daily practices with Leon after years of slacking come with a price, but it’s been a good way to release some steam, to empty his mind and focus only on taking his friend down for a while. Even if it means that hugging Guinevere back is a bit of an effort.

“I can’t believe this was happening this whole time!” Guinevere pulls back to look at him, keeping her hands on his arms. “I had no idea, Arthur!”

“They kept it a secret from you too?” Arthur asks, and he doesn’t know if the idea makes him feel better or worse about the situation. “You didn’t know he was Dragoon?”

“No, I knew that,” Guinevere says, looking apologetic as she steps back, a hand coming up to push some hair behind her ear, “but not that you didn’t know. I wasn’t hiding it, Arthur, I don’t know why it never came up clear enough…”

Arthur nods, a frown growing on his face as he thinks back on the few instances they spoke of Dragoon. Guinevere always chastised him when he spoke badly of it in front of Merlin, he remembers that, but he always associated it for Merlin being a fan, instead of the man himself. The first time, he recalls, was when he finally allowed Dr— when he allowed Merlin on his stage, and all of his friend’s came to watch. “Did Merlin’s friends know? Guinevere, was I the only one?”

Her gaze is filled with compassion as she cups his cheek. “I’m sorry, Arthur. Merlin’s friends knew.”

Arthur leans into the touch for a moment, as much as he hates to be the subject of pity. He set himself up for it, but something in his chest still tightens at the notion of not being included in Merlin’s friends. That Merlin didn’t even value him enough for that. 

“Right,” he mutters.

Her fingers move lightly through his hair, fixing his fringe as she used to often when they dated. It’s a habit that has stuck around over the years, and it’s always brought him comfort. This time it reminds him of Merlin, who did the same thing on Monday, before everything happened.

“Come have lunch with me and Lancelot,” Guinevere says.

“I don’t want to intrude on your date,” Arthur says, mouth twitching up.

“You won’t,” she smiles, eyes earnest, “we’d love if you joined us, Arthur.”

Arthur looks over his shoulder to eye his computer, which is open on his desk waiting for him to get back to. “I have work to do. And he’d probably wants to just spend time with you, Guinevere.”

“Arthur, I told him I was inviting you to join us, and he’s looking forward to it. In fact, he’s waiting for us already.”

“Alright,” Arthur concedes then, and is rewarded with her smile. “Let me just warn Leon and we’re off.”

They pass by him on their way out, and Arthur pats Leon on the shoulder as he lets him know where they’re off too. It’s raining, but Arthur has an umbrella big enough for the two of them as they walk down the street to the small restaurant close by. It’s a small business, one Arthur has stopped by at occasionally, but he’s still surprised Guinevere had picked it. People always take him to a gourmet restaurant, and while he enjoys those dishes like everyone else, he’d rather have a more simple meal. Not even his father can get that straight.

Lancelot gets up to clasp Arthur’s hand when they arrive, and pulls a chair back for Guinevere, who blushes prettily, smiling as she sits down. Lancelot looks at her adoringly as he sits beside her and, now sitting across them, Arthur decides he approves of him. 

“Thanks for coming, Arthur,” Lancelot smiles as he speaks to him, “I’ve been hoping for a chance to get to know you.”

He’s very handsome, warm brown eyes. and an earnest look that puts Arthur at ease. He hadn’t really paid attention to him the few couple of times they had met, usually a bit more preoccupied with Merlin or winning the bet against Gwaine. The one time had been looking forward to meet him and Merlin’s others friends was when Leon discovered they had been robbed, and the match had been canceled. Ever since Merlin’s confession Arthur has been hesitant over going to practice with them, but Lancelot looks honestly pleased to see him.

“I’ve only heard good things about you,” Lancelot says, handing him a menu.

“I doubt that,” Arthur replies, taking it. “Neither Morgana nor Merlin would—”

“Merlin did,” Lancelot says, “he always spoke greatly of you.”

“He also constantly insulted me.”

Lancelot looked serious, eyes on Arthur’s as he speaks, “We both know what he really meant by it.”

“Do we?” Arthur asks, “he’s been lying to me since the day we met. I don’t know his intentions on anything anymore.”

“Arthur, I’m sure that apart from the Dragoon business…” Guinevere says, a worried frown on her face.

“Merlin was wrong to lie about it,” Lancelot adds, “but, believe it or not, there’s a reason he performed in disguise, and it was never to fool you.”

“Then why did he do it?”

“It’s not my place to tell,” Lancelot says, “I’m not sure I should have said this much, but Merlin is very sorry for what happened, and I want to help you both.”

Arthur frowns down at the table. Merlin hasn't apologised to him, and neither has Morgana. If Merlin was actually sorry he’d say so, but Arthur doesn’t want to use that as an argument. Word would probably get to him, and then when he got an apology, if it ever came, Arthur wouldn’t be able to tell if it was honest or prompted by the fact he pointed it out to his friends.

The conversation is interrupted by the waiter who comes and takes  their orders, leaving an awkward silence behind. Sensing Arthur’s growing discomfort with the topic of the conversation, Gwen intervenes.

“Let’s change the subject, yes? We didn’t come here to talk about Merlin.”

“Yes, sorry,” Lancelot says, and he sounds honest as he turns to Arthur, “I did mean what I said. I’ve heard nothing but the best about you, Arthur, and was looking forward to becoming your friend, if you’ll have me.”

Arthur gives him a long look. He’d be doubtful of them not meaning to bring Merlin up, but he knows Guinevere, and there’s something about Lancelot that tells him that the man doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. And maybe he hasn’t learnt his lesson and still trusts too easily, but he believes in them.

“I think I’d like that,” he says, and easy as that they change the subject.

It’s a nice lunch break for him. He learns a lot about Lancelot, who’s a veterinarian, does volunteer work during his free time, donates blood every chance he gets and works with at risk kids on the side. He’s pure, in a way Arthur hasn’t seen in a while, Merlin’s secretism all the more obvious as he listens to Lancelot talk and realizes that nothing he says has double meanings. He doesn’t make comments that Arthur has to let slide because they sound like an inside joke he’s not a part of, nothing he says is misleading. Lancelot, sitting across the table as he eats a tofu burger because of course he’s a vegan on top of everything else, feels like a rush of fresh air, honest and with no bad intentions. Arthur too is looking forward to becoming his friend.

Guinevere updates him on her business, both men listening fondly as she spends ten minutes describing the new hammers she got for the shop a few days ago. She pointedly avoids mentioning Merlin or Morgana, but she complains with a laugh about Lancelot being gone for days if she’s not careful to call him, “He gets his head full of all the people he’s helping and forgets all about me!”

“Not true, you are always on my heart, Gwen,” Lancelot says seriously, and Guinevere smiles bashfully at him.

Lancelot rests a hand over Guinevere’s on the table, and they look so good together as they smile at each other. They’re both beautiful, even more so together, they’re true and good from the heart, and clearly love each other deeply. Were Arthur in another place in his life, he might be inclined to try to be a part of their relationship. If his love for Guinevere hadn’t turned platonic long ago, if his mind wasn’t too full of Merlin and his troubles to be in a good place for romance. Maybe in another life. As it is, he only longs to have something like what they have. Especially since a few days ago he was hopeful that he was close to that. What he really wants from them is their understanding and their friendship.

Arthur turns to ask the waiter for the bill with a gesture, and then looks at the happy couple again. “We should do this again sometime.”

Guinevere looks excited, and Lancelot smiles pleasantly, both agreeing quickly to it, already planning the next lunch. 

  
  


"Look, mate," Will says, pointing a finger at Arthur's chest, "I dunno what happened, or how you could be stupid enough not to know it was him, and my buddy Merlin was dumb as a knob to pull shit like this, but you're being a twat."

Arthur can only manage to look affronted, mouth open, "I am not. Merlin has been lying to me—”

"Yeah, yeah, I heard it from him, Pendragon, shut it. He lied about being Dragoon, but for some fucked up reason he likes your ass enough to be moping around and whining to me about how he screwed everything up. Merlin cares a lot about you, god knows why, arrogant and ugly as you are—”

"You can't—”

"And if you think that's not true then you're even dumber than I took you for. So suck it up and talk to him."

Arthur doesn't reply, offended beyond what he had been expecting when he had come over for football practice this Thursday afternoon. But he should have counted on Merlin's friends to defend him, even though Lancelot had been gentle about it. Will had none of his tact.

"I rather think he's the one who has to suck it up," Arthur replies. "After all—"

"Look, mate, no offense, but I really don't want to know what you get up to with Merlin. That moron is like a brother to me, alright, I really don't need to picture him sucking—"

"No, that's—” Arthur can feel his face heating up, flustered, "I meant he's the one who needs to explain himself, not me! He's the one in the wrong here!"

"Yeah, whatever you say," Will replies, crossing his arms, “just get over it already so I can have some goddamn peace and quiet again, got it?”

And just when Arthur thinks they’re done with this subject, Gwaine turns to them. “Look, mate, a man’s allowed to have his secrets, alright?” he says, “Maybe he shouldn’t have done it as he did, but you’ve got to respect Merlin’s wishes to keep stuff to himself. He doesn’t owe you his entire life, and some things are private. I’m sure you’ve got some stuff you don’t want him to find out, or that you haven’t told him, and that ain’t bad, is it? You’re taking this too seriously.”

“Arthur didn’t do anything wrong,” Elyan says, speaking at last as he stops stretching. “Merlin broke his trust, so if he wants to solve things, it should be him who takes the first step.”

“Arthur told him to fuck off, friend,” Gwaine says, grabbing the ball and holding it with both hands. He turns to Arthur again. “If you want to know the whole story, you need to give him a chance to talk. If you don’t think he deserves that, then you don’t deserve him as a friend.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be his friend,” Arthur says, but the words taste sour in his mouth. He’s not sure if he means it or not, but he knows he misses Merlin’s presence, misses his insults and his smile. He just doesn’t know if that’s enough. 

“That’s up to you,” Gwaine replies, shrugging. “In the meantime, we’re wasting time when we should be playing, yeah? You’ve got that kickass move to teach me, mate, come on.”

  
  


The next day, Arthur looks around the club, where gathering around some tables are the candidates for this morning's auditions. Morgana is sitting by herself at the table closest to the stage, typing something down on her ipad as she waits for the session to begin. Leon keeps glancing at her from the bar, where he's chatting with Elyan. He almost smiles at the thought of his friend's loyalty, but the reason Leon's not taking advantage to be right there with her isn't something that makes him happy. 

Coming to his side, puffing out some smoke as he holds a cigar in his hand, is Kilgharrah. Arthur was surprised when the old man had agreed to come help with the auditions, as for a while now he's been insisting he's done more than his part to help the show, but he had come when Arthur asked this time, with only a small amount of complaining. Arthur just really doesn’t want to rely on Morgana’s opinion for their next hire, not after the stunt she’s pulled last time. Leon and Kilgharrah are there to add their own weight to the auditions.

"Hand it over," Arthur says, "you know you can't smoke in here."

"That rule makes no sense," Kilgharrah replies, pressing the cigar to his lips again, "this is exactly the sort of place where smoking should be allowed, you're oppressing your customers."

"Of course I am," Arthur reaches out, taking the item from the other's hand, "and I'm not about to change that."

Kilgharrah sighs, but doesn't comment on it any further. "Why are we holding auditions, young Pendragon? I thought you had decided to rehire Dragoon."

Arthur looks at him surprised, realizing no one had told him about what had happened. "I discovered Dragoon has been Merlin the whole time. To deceive me."

"Has he really?" Kilgharrah didn't look that surprised, only doubtful, "I didn't think you'd be so easily fooled."

"Yeah, well, Merlin apparently has a knack for keeping me in the dark."

"That's not what I meant," Kilgharrah says, "the young warlock was obvious about what he was doing. But I did not think you would push him away for performing on your stage."

"He lied to me--"

"He did not," Kilgharrah says, sounding far too sure for someone who hasn't spied on their entire conversations to know that for a fact, "he withheld the information about his second job, hardly something that matters. He should be on this stage."

"He's been lying to me since the day we met."

"But was it important?" the older man replies, "he performed five times in this club, and on three of those nights you weren't even here, Arthur Pendragon. Is the fact he dresses up and performs magic for your audience something so despicable that you pushed him away?"

Arthur turns to look at him, frowning. "It's not about how many times it has happened, it's about honesty."

"You're turning what happened into something bigger than it is," Kilgharrah says. "Ask yourself this: if he had performed as himself, had you known from the start, would you have given him the chance to be there for you? Or would your father's hatred of magic have kept you from it?"

With that, the old man leaves his side and joins Morgana on the table.

Arthur watches him go, eyes wide, with no comeback. Usually, the old man isn’t so direct with his advice or opinions, but once in awhile he surprises Arthur with the intensity of it. Arthur hates to admit it, he’s right on some points. Some that might fit with what Merlin’s friends told him.

Leon comes up to him, and they sit at the table as well, announcing the beginning of the auditions. Everything is off sync. He’s used to doing this part with Morgana, but they’re not exactly getting along and have two other people with them, everyone with different tastes, opinions and valuing different things. At some point he has to call for a break, and order everyone to just write down their thoughts so they can compare notes later on. Everyone is stressed as the auditions continue, and none of the candidates seem good enough.

Afterwards, they compare notes on the performers, and Arthur calls the meeting off so they can dwell on their options. At this point, he’s considering holding another batch of auditions and asking some of the hired artists to perform on Mondays to fill the spot. Maybe Fight Dragons would be able to do it.

They move apart to go back to their jobs, and Arthur is left feeling slightly despondent, unsure of what he feels is missing. Maybe, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s about the fact that at some level, he had expected Merlin to come in and audition. Arthur’s glad it’s something that hadn’t happened, because he’s not ready to see him, especially in those circumstances. 

He knows he has the right to be mad, but maybe he doesn’t have all the facts he needs to be making the right call. He sighs, moving towards his office to grab his jacket. What he needs now is to go home and think about everything he’s been told.


	19. The Return Journey

Arthur’s putting his clothes away in drawers when he finds it. He’s still for a moment, staring at the cloth, and his mind is carefully blank as he puts down the basket of clean clothes and reaches to pull it out. He steps backwards to sit on the bed, and holds the red scarf in his lap.

 _For luck_ , Merlin said when he had given it to him, and Arthur stares at the stupid scarf he refuses to give back because he just _doesn’t understand_. Because it’s easy to look back and realize that Merlin was keeping a lot from him, but it’s hard to see any real deceit. To see their friendship as fake. He’s unable to pick through the things Merlin said,how he somehow charmed his way into Arthur’s heart, and see them as a purpose to humiliate him. It’s like he now knows a whole new Merlin that he can’t tell apart from the old one, but that he can’t think of as the same either.

If all Merlin wanted was to deceive him about Dragoon, then why didn’t he make a bigger deal of Arthur watching it? Why didn’t he bring it up more often? What’s the point of seeing how long it would take for Arthur to notice if there’s barely anything there for him to notice at all? Kilgharrah was right about that, he’s only ever watched two of his shows, and all Merlin did was ask for his opinion on them. If Merlin just wanted to fool him, then he had a very odd way of going about it.

The problem is, there’s no way to try to think in the opposite direction. There isn’t a line of thought that starts with ‘what if Merlin didn’t want to trick him’, because ultimately that’s what he _did_ , and he had every intention of doing it every time he omitted the truth. Arthur just doesn’t understand why. Who would plan to do such thing? Who would fake being his friend, would go to his father’s wedding and look at Arthur as if he wanted to kiss him too, who’d do that to someone they met just to turn them into a joke? And then almost never bring up the issue he was fooling Arthur over?

Arthur doesn’t understand if Merlin got sidetracked from his original plan with Morgana or if he’s really just that bad at pranking someone. Either way sounds terribly like something Merlin would _do_ , because even if he’s been lying this whole time, Arthur can’t believe Merlin isn’t the same clumsy idiot he’s been falling for. Merlin’s just turned out to be an asshole on top of that too.

Arthur’s fingers stroke lightly over the texture of the scarf, and he pulls a hand away from it, lifting his hips slightly to reach for his phone. He unlocks the screen, thumb hovering over it for a second, before he taps the messaging app system. It goes to the last conversation he had opened, which has a single message in it.

_‘I am very sorry, Arthur.’_

Arthur had gotten it the previous day and, not expecting anything from Merlin since he’s been silent for days, opened it without checking who it was. Merlin’s apology has been glaring at him ever since. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

Would it be stupid of him, to accept it? To believe him after Merlin lied to him? To go to Merlin and listen to whatever he’s saying? Would he be dumb for buying it? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

And that’s the thing, Arthur _feels_ dumb. It’s not exactly a new feeling, he grew up with Morgana, after all, and with knowing that no matter how good he did, it’d never be enough for his father. But he had grown used to it, had worked with it, known his strengths, and had accepted there were different kinds of intelligence. He had worked hard and found the areas where he was _smart_ , but there’s nothing like finding out two of the closest people to him had been tricking him for months. They pulled the rug from right under his feet and he hadn't even _figured it out_. He had to be told _twice_ by Merlin.

How dumb can he be?

He glares at Merlin’s message, his grip tightening as he gets the urge to hurl his phone away. He throws it on the bed so he doesn’t risk breaking it, the scarf falling from his lap to the floor as he turns around to do so. The phone bounces on the bed twice before stopping, screen face up. Arthur sighs, and runs a hand through his hair.

The problem is that he knows there’s a way for him to feel less like an idiot about this. He knows that feeling dumb would pass quicker if he wasn’t wondering about motives and what happened, he knows it’s dragging out because he can’t figure out why it all happened. So he has to talk to one of them. Morgana is out of the question, she’d just made him feel even stupider, she’d insult him and turn the conversation into an accusation of her own. She’s good at it, has years of practice.

Arthur reluctantly looks at the phone again, it’s light bright in the room. Merlin has tried to apologise. And if the real Merlin is like the Merlin he’s fallen for, he won’t be like Morgana. Maybe Merlin could explain without mocking him. And if he does mock him, that’s all the answer he needs to know why he did it. If he doesn’t, it also doesn’t have to mean that Arthur believes him.

He grabs his phone and after that it’s sickeningly hilarious how things follow the exact same pattern of last Monday, exactly a week ago. Almost as if everything was still the same.   _‘Are you home?’ ‘Yes’ ‘I’m there in 20_ ’. Same exact words, but with such a different feeling. Only the text that comes a little after it, forcing him to take his phone out of his pocket as Arthur reaches the lift, deviants from last time. _‘Thank you’_ Merlin texted. Arthur puts the phone back in his pocket without replying.

He was so nervous, last time he got in his car on his way to Merlin’s flat. He is now too, but for completely different reasons. The situation keeps mirroring the same from a week ago, as he parks his car and rings Merlin’s doorbell, and goes up the lift.

It’d be funny to realize he’s standing in the exact same spot exactly one week ago if it weren’t for the fact that last time he was here, he was hoping to ask Merlin on a date. Now he’s just hoping that Merlin isn’t malicious enough to mock him for believing he’s actually sorry. Arthur isn’t sure, in any case, that he believes that. He wants to.

Merlin opens the door wide, eyes roaming over Arthur’s face as if he can’t believe he’s there. Arthur stares back at him, all thoughts leaving him because Merlin looks _different_. His hair is all ruffled up, as if he had spent the last twenty minutes clutching at it. There are some bags under his eyes, his posture is a bit off, leaning to the right. And there’s stubble on his face. It’s dark on his jaw, sprinkled black spots down the beginning of his neck, his milky white skin visible down his throat to the curved line of his shoulder, before the collar of the shirt covers it up. Arthur’s eyes go up to the stubble that make Merlin look older, but also warm him up, a feeling curling in his stomach as he wonders if it’s soft, and how good it’d feel scratching against his inner thigh.

Merlin’s mouth, his lips, look flushed in contrast with his black stubble, and Arthur has to force himself to look up from it to Merlin’s eyes. He should have decided to do this over the phone. Where he couldn’t look at Merlin and feel swayed. He wishes that were possible, but it has to be this way, he needs to be able to look him in the eye and decide if he believes in Merlin or not.

“Are you going to let me in?” Arthur asks at last, as the silence drags on and they do nothing but stare at each other.

“Arthur,” Merlin says his name as if he can’t quite believe he’s there, voice wavering just slightly before he nods quickly, “Yes, of course, come in.”

The door is closed after Arthur enters, but it’s not locked. Good. Arthur wants to be in control of his stay there, he needs to know he has an easy way out that doesn’t depend on Merlin. Merlin is hovering around him, obviously nervous and unsure of how to proceed, and Arthur strikes out the possibility of Merlin mocking him for coming over at all. He’s not sure if he’s relieved to know that.

“Do you want some coffee? Tea, water, beer?”

“No, I want answers.”

Merlin closes his mouth, nods tightly and sits down on the end of his couch. Arthur sits down on the other end, turned slightly so he can look at him without getting uncomfortable. There’s just room for one person between them, and Arthur doesn’t think they’ve ever put so much distance between them before. He’s always been drawn to Merlin, and the space between them now feels large, but it’s supposed to. It’s what he needs it to be.

Merlin is looking back at him, and Arthur doesn’t know how he feels under his intense gaze, that feels both like it’s being committed to memory and analyzed with caution to know how to proceed.

“So, hum,” Merlin’s hands are restless as he tries to restring them to his lap, “ask me anything, everything you want to know.”

Arthur crosses his arms over his chest. “Why?”

“Because you deserve to know, I _need_ you to know—” Merlin stills at his hard look, “Right, not that why. ...Why did I do it?”

Arthur just nods.

“...I’ve always loved magic, Arthur,” he looks at him, as if he can beg with a look for him to understand, “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t. It’s just part of me. And I wanted to show it. I wanted to share it with people. Gaius,” he pauses, smiling a little, pulled to the side as he tilts his head slightly, “wasn’t much of a fan, especially when I decided to perform on the streets. The shop already has a reputation for dealing with witchcraft without one of its two employees walking around pulling rabbits out of hats.”

Merlin runs a hand through his own hair, messing it up further, and gives him a small shrug. “That’s when I created Dragoon. It was to hide it from Gaius. I love him as if he’s my own blood, really, but Gaius can be overbearing. I didn’t want to worry him and I didn’t want to ruin the shop. I just wanted to do magic.

“And then I meet Morgana. At The Physician,” Merlin continues, “I don’t know how long ago, almost a year, I think. We didn’t become friends right away, not like…” his eyes meet Arthur’s for a moment, before going back to stare at his lap, “she was just a costumer at first, but then we got to know each other. And she found out about Dragoon. From Gwen, I think. I wasn’t really hiding it from my friends, as long as random customers or Gaius didn’t know…”

“So Gwen and Morgana, they knew,” Arthur says, “they knew before we even met.”

“I thought you knew,” Merlin says, eyebrows coming together and creasing his forehead, “I thought they’d have told you something. Morgana just said that you offered me a spot if I wanted it. That she had talked to you about it, and I went. And Excalibur is so close by The Physician, and so many people go through it, so I went as Dragoon. Morgana knew, so I thought she’d tell you. When we met…”

“I was just the idiot who didn’t—”

“No,” Merlin interrupts him, “you were…you were bea—” he pauses, cheeks heating up, “I just looked at you and knew I needed to talk to you. I didn’t know who you were either, not until you told me. And by then you’d said enough for me to think of you as an arrogant snob and let the matter be. I thought _you_ knew and had told me that I didn’t belong on your stage.”

Arthur’s grip on his arms tightens as he feels like dropping down his walls a bit. Merlin’s story so far fits, he _did_ insult Merlin’s show to his face, but he knows what’s coming next, and Merlin is not innocent in this. “You didn’t know _then_.”

“Morgana told me, afterwards. She was delighted that you hadn’t realized it was me, and she said it’d be fun, we could teach you a lesson,” Merlin pauses, looking down guiltily, “I didn’t think anything good of you then, you were a git, and I figured, why not? I could perform, and maybe show you how stupid it was to dismiss it. It wasn’t like we were actually going to talk, right? I figured it’d be just that.”

“But it wasn’t, you came to _me_ ,” Arthur says, “It wasn’t something I started that you went along with, you just... started spending time with me as if we were friends.”

“I got curious,” Merlin says, as if it pains him to admit it, looking up at the ceiling, “as usual. Gaius could tell some stories, and he keeps warning me— anyway. I wanted to know who you were, why did you hate magic so much. I didn’t understand, it had always been special to me. And I started spending time with you and I… I wanted to know _you_.”

“Did you still think of me as git? Do you think that now?” Arthur frowns, “Is that why you never told me?”

“No, it’s—” Merlin sighs, “I wasn’t thinking. Once I got to know you, and figured you weren’t that bad. Well, you’re still an arrogant snobbish prat, but you’re _you_ and someh—”

“Merlin,” Arthur lets out in warning, his voice lacking its usual fondness.

“Right, sorry. So I got to know you, and I didn’t know how to bring it up without ruining things, and I figured, maybe it was a good thing! You know? Maybe I could work on changing your mind on magic on two fronts, as the magician and as your friend. And once you at least considered it wasn’t all that bad, I’d tell you.”

“That never happened.” Arthur replies dryly.

“We were getting there, I think,” Merlin says, “and then you decided to meet Dragoon, and I kind of panicked and you fired me.”

“You insulted me. Not like you usually do, you called me…” Arthur frowns, trying to remember the actual words.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Merlin says quickly, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment, “I panicked and could only think of getting you away as fast as I could. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Arthur nods in silence. He’s not so sure about that last part.

Merlin hesitates for a moment, as he waits for a reply, but then continues. “I tried to tell you the truth then, but you didn’t believe it. I know that wasn’t a good reason not to insist, you deserved the truth, but I figured it didn’t matter, yeah? Dragoon was gone, so who cares if you saw me do tricks one or two times and didn’t know it was me?”

“I do.”

Merlin looks at him. “Yeah. Me too.” He makes a small pause. “I really am sorry.”

He stops then, eyes downcast and hands closed tightly into fists on his lap, seemingly awaiting Arthur’s judgment. Arthur just looks at him, because while the story itself seems to make sense, it doesn’t exactly fit with what happened, with what he’s been told.

“If it didn’t matter, why did you tell me last week?” Arthur asks.

Merlin glances at him, shifting slightly and clearly uncomfortable, “You came to tell me…” he hesitates at Arthur’s hard look, “something. And if it was what I think it was, then you had to know about this first. Thought it was fair.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything for a moment. He doesn’t want Merlin to know what he had come over to tell him last week, and he’s not going to ask if he guessed it right. Because if he does, he’ll have to hear Merlin say Arthur loves him and he can’t do that right now.

“But that’s not all,” he says instead, ignoring Merlin’s answer for the moment, “you’re hiding something else, aren’t you? Your friends made it seem you had a good reason to lie about Dragoon, and what you’ve told isn’t enough.”

Merlin looks very hesitant as he speaks now, “I have a secret. Out of everyone who knows, I’ve only told one person. The others have found out by accident.”

“So, what, I have to find out to know it?” Arthur replies, “you can’t just tell me whatever it is?”

Merlin’s hands are shaking slightly. “I’ll tell you,” he says, “just, not today. It’s personal, Arthur, and it changes a lot. Do you trust me?”

“No,” Arthur replies, because he’s honest, and he values that trait. “Not now, I don’t.”

“I trust you,” Merlin replies, as if that’s something big. As if Arthur has done anything to break his trust. As if he's the one withholding something. “Could you trust me knowing I’m keeping a secret?”

“Does that secret affect me?” Arthur replies.

“It has,” Merlin says, looking regretful, “but not by me.”

“If you trust me, why can’t you tell me?”

“Because I think it’s too soon for you to handle it,” Merlin replies, “I know if you promised you’d never tell anyone, but it’s something… big. For me. Well, for anyone really.”

Arthur pauses, the next question on his lips, holding it back for a moment because he’s sure he doesn’t want to hear the answer. “Does Morgana know?”

Merlin nods. “Yeah. Sorry. She found out.”

“Right.” Of course Morgana knows. Arthur sighs, sinking further into the couch, the stupid, old couch Merlin denies having rescued from the trash, that has been used over and over as an excuse for them to slide towards the middle, for their legs to touch, their arms brushing. Right now there’s still plenty of room between them.

“I want you to know it, Arthur,” Merlin says, his voice wavering a little, “I really do. But I’m scared it would... I’m scared it’d make you leave forever.”

“Will it? Once I know it?” he replies.

“Right now? Yeah, I think so.”

Arthur stops to think it over. “Is it anything illegal?”

Merlin lets out a startles laugh. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

Arthur forces himself to look at Merlin as he prepares the next question. He wants to look away, but he has to see Merlin’s face as he answers, not just hear him say it. “Did you care at all for me? Was it all fake?”

Merlin looks him in the eyes, frowning in determination. “It was never fake.” he hesitates for a moment but he looks earnest as he adds “not even at the wedding.”

Arthur stiffens, feeling a sting as if he’d been slapped. He gets up quickly, having reached his limit of what he’s willing to hear. He can’t look at Merlin, he can’t think of the implications of what he said, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “I’ve asked enough for now. I have to think about this. About everything you’ve told me.”

“Sorry,” Merlin gets up, visibly pained, “I just— I want to come clean about as much as I can. And I’ve been falling—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Arthur stops him quickly, his voice a bit louder than he intended it to be. He pauses, and the next second it becomes controlled again, colder, “I can’t deal with that right now. And if— if you’re using it to get me to forgive you…”

Merlin looks stricken. “I’m not! Arthur, I swear—”

“I don’t trust you!” Arthur lets out, louder again. “You don’t get to do this to me, Merlin.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says, his voice shaken, “Arthur, I’m sorry to have hurt you and broken your trust. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

Arthur nods, trying to calm down. His heart's still pounding in his chest. “I’m going home,” he says, and starts heading to the door, “I have to think about this.”

“Yes, of course,” Merlin says quickly, going after him.

Arthur is at the front door in an instant, opening it and moving into the hallway.

“And, Arthur,” Merlin grabs the door, looking at him, “whatever you need, to trust me again. Just… just say the word and I’ll do it.”

Arthur gives him a long look. Merlin sounds honest. Regretful, even. He nods, and goes to the lift, thankful the doors open as soon as he presses the button to call it, and steps inside.

“I hope to see you soon,” Merlin says, his door still open.

Arthur doesn’t reply, the doors closing before he can look back at Merlin. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.


	20. The Clouds Burst

“That explains things,” Leon concedes, “but it doesn’t make them right.”

It’s Tuesday afternoon at the club, and Arthur has just explained what happened with Merlin. Things make more sense when he says them outloud, retelling Merlin’s version, but Leon is right.

Elyan frowns at the counter between them, before looking up at Arthur. “Telling you he’s keeping a secret from you right after the first time means that it’s not going to change a damn thing. He can say he’s sorry, but he’s not really changing his behaviour, right?” He shakes his head, pours a glass and slides it across the bar.

“What it seems to me,” Leon says, after a small pause, “is that he wants to be good with you again. He wants your trust, but then he doesn’t trust you in turn.”

The front door opens loudly, before Arthur can even think of what they’re saying, the three of them turn their heads to see Morgana walking in, Percy coming up from behind to stop her.

“Arthur, honestly, I’m done with waiting until you calm down,” she starts, glaring at Percy as he grabs her arm.

Both Leon and Elyan get up. Elyan frowns at her, his hands pressing hard on the counter as he hunches his shoulder. Leon moves to stand between Morgana and her brother. Arthur turns on his stool again, to face the shelves with drinks behind Elyan. He grabs his drink and gulps it down.

“This is ridiculous,” Morgana tries to tug her arm free, and then slaps Percy’s hand. “I work here, as you very well know.”

“And you’re no longer allowed in outside your work hours,” Percy replies calmly.

“Arthur, you’re acting like a child,” Morgana says, “you don’t want me around? Look at me and say it. Stop hiding away like a coward and face me.”

Arthur takes a deep breath through his nose, shoulders tensing up, heavy with a sudden added weight. He turns slowly to look at his sister, quiet for a moment as he watches her stop struggling against Percy’s hold to glare at Arthur.

“Go away. I don’t want to deal with you,” Arthur speaks as calmly as he can.

“You cannot throw me away until it pleases you, Arthur! I am not a thing for you to control and decide what I can or can’t do! You can try to avoid me all you want, but you have no right—”

“I have every right,” Arthur’s voice starts getting louder, “I can’t deal with you and with what you did, so I want you out. I can’t tell you what to do with your life, but I get to decide who comes into _my_ club, and unless it’s to work, you’re not setting a foot in here. You fucked up, Morgana, and _if_ I decide to deal with it, I’ll let you know. Until then I want you out of my sight.”

“You’re willing to talk to Merlin but not me!” Morgana let’s out, angry, “I am your sister,” she pronounces the words hard, “I should be the one who—”

“You _are_ my sister,” Arthur replies in a harsh tone, getting up without realizing, “Merlin, as stupid as he was to _listen to you_ in the first place, didn’t know me when he decided to do what he did. You— you’re my _family_ , you’ve known me your entire life, and you thought what you did was okay? You thought it’d be fun to mess with me like that?”

“It was just a joke, Arthur, you’re overreacting,” Morgana snaps back, “I hid Merlin’s secret identity, big deal, it’s not like I tried to have you killed.”

“Get out.”

“Arthur, you can’t seriously forgive Merlin and not me,” Morgana lets out, “that’s—”

“I didn’t forgive him,” Arthur gets louder, “and I’m certainly not forgiving _you_.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ar—”

“That’s enough!” Arthur can hear his own voice loud in his ears and stops to take a deep breath.

Leon moves forward, grabbing Morgana’s other arm and turning her back to the door with Percy’s help. “Come on, this is no way to go.”

“Leon, darling,” Morgana’s voice comes softer, even if wavering slightly with the anger she can’t quite hide, “you know this is nothing—”

“I know you are wrong,” Leon replies firmly, as they walk out, “and you need to accept that and figure out how to make it up to your brother.”

Their voices fade as they finally leave, and Arthur sits down at the stool again. He’s incredibly angry, but he feels weak, shaken, and looks down at his hands surprised to not see them trembling. These days, just looking at Morgana makes him feel like this.

“Here you go,” Elyan slides another full glass into his line of sight.

Arthur grabs it, but can’t make himself drink it. They wait in silence for Leon, but it seems he’s taking his time.

“You were defending Merlin,” Elyan says, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur shakes his head. “I was defending my decision to hear him out. I’m not even sure if I believe him.”

They turn to watch Leon come back in, his shoulders slumped, and Elyan leans forward a bit, propping an elbow on the counter to speak, “You did hear him out. You’re not going to listen to her?”

“I can’t deal with her right now,” Arthur shakes his head.

“It might help to hear her version,” Leon says as he sits down next to him again. “See if her story matches Merlin’s. Or if she knows what he’s still hiding.”

Elyan picks up two new glasses, filling them both for himself and Leon. Arthur watches him do it, trying to figure out how to explain that he can’t even look at his sister without being filled with rage and hurt. Merlin is just much easier to deal with. “...You heard her. She’s not sorry, she doesn’t think she did anything wrong. Merlin apologised, before I gave him a chance to explain himself. Morgana… she’s just going to try to make me agree with her.”

“She’s stubborn,” Leon sighs, grabbing the glass Elyan slid him. “But she might know what you need to hear.”

“She knows Merlin’s secret,” Arthur admits, “but if she finds out I want to know it, she’ll just use it as a bargaining chip.” He lifts the glass, and looks at it. “You don’t know what it is, do you? Merlin’s secret,” Arthur asks Elyan, and is not surprised when he shakes his head. It was a long shot.

“He’s more my sister’s friend than my own,” Elyan says with a shrug.

“I know what you mean,” Arthur replies.

Leon runs a hand through his curled hair, and takes a large gulp of his drink. Arthur pats his shoulder, but doesn’t add anything else. He’s thankful for his friends’ loyalty, and they’re right. He needs to hear other versions of the story to see if Merlin was being  truely honest with him at the end.

 

“Do you know what Merlin’s secret is?” Arthur asks.

Lancelot and Guinevere share a look, but Arthur gets his answer from their silence. Guinevere looks between them in confusion. Lancelot looks down, shoulders hunching defensively. It’s the least honest look Arthur has ever seen on him, and he’s not denying anything.

“I know what you’re talking about,” Lancelot says, “but it’s not my story to tell,” his stance shifts, eyes soft but his voice firm. He, per usual, means what he says.

“Did he tell you or did you have to find out?” Arthur asks.

“I found out,” Lance answers.

“Am I supposed to do the same?”

Guinevere frowns, biting her lip softly before she speaks. “What are you talking about?”

“Merlin, as everyone else,” Lancelot speaks calmly, “has his own personal issues. Some he doesn’t share with others.” His looks turns gentler at Arthur as he adds “Not to say you don’t deserve some honesty from him, because you do, Arthur, as well as his apologies. But I don’t think that gives you the right to every aspect of his life.”

“He told his version of what happened,” Arthur says, pausing to step ahead and open the door for them. Guinevere gives him a smile as she passes, heading to the table they ate at last week. “And he apologised.”

“Of course he did!” Guinevere says, “He’s really sorry.”

They sit down at the table, and Arthur looks at them. He’s glad they’re starting to have lunch together every week. Last time he didn’t want to talk about Merlin at all but now, seeing as both of them are friends with him, he wants to bring up the subject. Out of anyone, they’d know if Merlin had been fully honest with him. Apart from Morgana, that is, but he’s not going to her with anything anymore.

He asks what they know from Merlin’s point of view, and they pretty much tell him the same story. Something in his chest eases up as they share what they’ve been told, because if it matches, then it’s likely true. Merlin wouldn’t just lie to them, would he? Not to them.

“...and this big secret of his?” Arthur asks again as they wait for the bill, stomach full and mind a little lighter.

“I didn’t even know he had a secret,” Guinevere says, frowning, “Well, I obviously know he keeps some things private, but I never thought of them as important.”

“I can’t talk about it, Arthur,” Lancelot says, looking regretful, “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I can’t betray his trust.”

“I understand,” Arthur says, holding back a sigh. He ponders for a moment, and then asks “Is it about his family? He never says much about them.”

“His family?” Guinevere looks surprised, “I’ve met his mother, Hunith is a sweetheart.”

“And his father?”

She shakes her head. “That can’t be it, he’s never met him.”

Arthur looks down at the table, trying to think of what else it can be, only to notice Lancelot paying the bill, and hiding it from them as Arthur tries to reach it.

“This time it’s on me,” he says, smiling. “You can’t always pay, Arthur.”

“Well, then I’ll pay next week,” Guinevere says as she gets up. “Tuesday this time?”

“I can’t, I have work,” Lancelot says, “Wednesday again?”

“You know where to find me,” Arthur says. He opens his mouth as he gets up, another question about Merlin on the tip of his tongue, but decides to let the matter drop for now. They don’t have much more to tell him on the subject.

 

 

“I wasn’t, hum, expecting you so soon,” Merlin says as Arthur strides into his apartment.

“I can see that,” Arthur says, as he eyes move over the mess in the living room, shirts piled up on the couch, pizza boxes stacked all over the coffee table.

Merlin quickly gathers the shirts in his arms, a blush growing on his cheeks. His face is shaved clean again. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asks as he goes to his bedroom.

“No,” Arthur answers, crossing his arms, “we need to talk.”

Merlin hurries back to the living room. “Yeah, sure.”

“I need to know your secret,” Arthur says.

Merlin is visible distressed upon his words, “Arthur, maybe now isn’t the best—”

“There’s not going to be a right time,” Arthur cuts him off. “How can I forgive you for keeping things from me if you keep doing it? You can’t wait for me to trust you to tell me what you’re holding back from me, because I won’t. Not when this secret concerns me.”

“Arthur,” it comes out almost in a whisper, Merlin’s hands clutching at the end of his own shirt.

“I can respect your privacy, Merlin, and I wouldn’t press if it weren’t for that fact,” Arthur insists. “You said it has affected me, so I have the right to know.”

“Okay,” Merlin lets out a bit shakily, “you’re right. Yeah. I’ll… let’s sit down, for this, yeah?”

Arthur lets out a small breath of relief. Had Merlin refused it just now, Arthur wouldn’t insist, but he wouldn’t stay either. It’d mean that Merlin wouldn’t really change his behaviour. At least this means there might be something to salvage between them.

He sits down on the ridiculous couch, sinking down on it, knees higher than they’d be on a regular sofa. Merlin sits down on the other end, imposing the distance between them himself this time.

“Let’s have it then,” Arthur says, crossing his arms again, “spit it out.”

“I need you to not freak out,” Merlin says, “and let me explain.” His knee is jumping up and down, hands restless on his lap, and Arthur almost comments about _him_ needing to not freak out.

“Just get on with it, Merlin.”

“Okay. Alright. So.” Merlin breathes out shakily, a hand running through his hair. “I have magic.”

“What?” Arthur asks, with a frown, sure he has misheard it.

“I told you I always loved magic, but it’s not just that. I also always _had_ it. I could make things fly before I could even walk.”

“Very funny,” Arthur spits out, getting up, chest flaring with hurt, “and here I thought you were going to be honest for _once_ —”

“But I am!” Merlin gets up as well, hand reaching forward, “wait, just— here, look!”

Arthur stills, transfixed as suddenly the coffee table lifts off the ground, floating a few inches from it. He turns his head slowly to watch Merlin, hand extended towards the table. There’s a thumping sound as the table goes back to the floor, but Arthur can’t make himself look away from Merlin’s eyes, which shine gold, as if they have a light of their own, until it starts leaking away, revealing the familiar blue.

“You— you set up some wires,” Arthur says, quickly moving to the table, crouching down next to it, to see what could have been done to fake it. There are no wires in sight, and it’s heavier to lift the side of it with a hand than he had thought it’d be. Wires also wouldn’t explain Merlin’s eyes.

“There’s no trick, Arthur,” Merlin says, watching him nervously as Arthur gets up again, “tell me what you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

“Be honest.”

Merlin nods, turning his hand to have his palm facing up. His eyes turn gold again and stay like that as a flame grows a few inches from his palm, small at first and then sizing up, shaping itself into the form of a dragon. The dragon flies in circles over Merlin’s hand, flapping its wings, and his mouth open to let out a burst of flames.

Arthur stumbles backwards, away, his leg hitting the couch. His breath is caught in his throat, vision swaying as he reaches back with a hand. It touches the back of the couch and he drops himself onto it, because the edge of his vision is turning black. There’s a terrible taste in the front of his throat and he’s sure he could pass out in an instant. He sees everything tilt, and swallows in dry, focusing his eyes on his own hands as he tries to understand what he just saw, because no way it was actually magic. That just isn’t possible. It isn’t.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, sitting down close to him this time, a hand gently resting on his knee. The dragon is gone, and so is the gold from Merlin’s eyes. “I know this is a lot to take in…”

“The day you were born,” Arthur lets out slowly, remembering, “the world turned magical.”

“Yeah,” Merlin smiles a bit, “mum loves to tell that story. We were at the hospital, and I was crying in my crib. She was reaching for it, to bring me closer, when she sees a blanket fly off the foot of her bed into my crib, and I stopped crying.”

Arthur is quiet, trying to tune out the loud sound of his heartbeat in his ears as he process this information. Merlin squeezes his knee lightly and continues.

“She said it was both a blessing and a curse,” he says with a small chuckle, “never had to get out of bed at night to grab me stuff, but it was hard trying to explain to the neighbours why the telly was floating.”

“I thought," Arthur says, "I thought the secret was about your father.” He’s not sure how to react. He’s not even sure of what he’s feeling at the moment, apart from shock, and the quick pace of his heartbeat. Nothing feels real.

“It might be,” Merlin says, “I never met him, but mum says he was special too. Not in the same way, but… yeah. Might have got this from him.”

Arthur stays quiet again. Asking anything he actually wants to ask would make Merlin think he _believes_ that he has magic, or that he’s considering it a possibility. What if Merlin is faking it somehow? Not only he tricked Arthur about Dragoon, but now also gets to make him believe he has weird powers? He doesn’t want to ask anything that would compromise himself. But how does one fake a fire dragon? Holograms? If Merlin had that kind of money he’d have replaced his couch already.

“I don’t actually know any magic tricks,” Merlin says,

“Now that’s not surprising,” Arthur replies, somehow falling back into their banter, and somewhat regretting it as Merlin grins at him.

“Well, yeah,” Merlin says with a small laugh, his posture finally relaxing a bit, “I do some magic at the shop, when I can, but magic tricks are really the only way I can do stuff without anyone freaking out. Gaius keeps bugging me about hiding it, so I created Dragoon so I could perform. He’s scared of what could happen if someone found out.” He pauses, and gives a small shrug, looking down, “I’m too. I mean, we don’t really know what happened to my father. I don’t want to end up as a lab experiment.”

His knee touches the side of his leg lightly, and Arthur looks at it, at Merlin’s hand still on that same leg, before he lifts his eyes back to Merlin’s. “Do something else,” he orders. It’s not giving in, he tells himself, it’s trying to get more evidences that point either way.

“What?”

“Make.. make the couch comfortable.”

Merlin lets out a surprised laugh, a smile touching his face. “Spoilt prat,” he mutters fondly, and takes his hand off Arthur’s knee, to press it on the couch. He closes his eyes — as he does every time he does a magic trick, Arthur realizes, to hide his golden eyes —, eyebrows coming together as he frowns in concentration. And then the couch starts filling out, the pillows getting fluffier and fuller, growing beneath them and against Arthur’s back at the pace of a balloon is filled with air. The springs creak as they expand again with room and new flexibility, and the whole things stops as there is no more space for growth. Arthur leans back slightly, and he’s not sinking on the couch anymore. It feels brand new.

“Good enough for you yet?” Merlin asks a bit breathlessly, looking back at him in time for Arthur to see the gold leave his eyes.

“It’s still an eye sore,” Arthur says a bit absently, as he tries to understand what just happened. How could Merlin fake this? He can’t just touch the couch and press some button to fill the pillows, as if he’d _know_ Arthur would ask for that. He couldn’t have planned for this. He can’t have a hologram for the dragon, and the table has no set up to be made to fly at will. Nothing he knows could explain Merlin’s eyes.

“You have superpowers,” Arthur lets out, his breaths coming out short.

“Magic,” Merlin corrects him.

“Superpowers,” Arthur says again as he gets up, as his breathing becomes even harder. He moves as quickly as he can to the closest window, opening it wide and pressing his hands on the frame as he leans out, the cold air hitting him strong. It’s raining, but Arthur doesn’t mind the cool drops that hit his face, finding the sound of the heavy rain soothing. He manages a deep breath.

“Arthur?” Merlin sounds hesitant again, stopping a few steps behind him.

Arthur turns to look at him, one hand still by the window, the cold breeze now on his back. Merlin looks like Merlin always did. Nervous and hopeful, with dark hair, sharp cheekbones and bright blue eyes. Eyes that turn gold.

“How much— what can you do?”

“A lot? I don’t know, don’t really have that much chance to use it outside of house chores and magic tricks,” Merlin shrugs.

“How has it affected me?” Arthur asks, his hand gripping on the window frame. “What have you done to me?”

“Nothing!” Merlin lets out, eyes wide, “Arthur I never used it with mind stuff, I don’t even know if I _can_.”

“Then what happened?” Arthur’s heart is racing again, because he’s connecting the dots. Mind stuff, especially ever since he met Merlin can only really mean one thing.

“Back when we met,” Merlin explains quickly, “you also met Sophia.”

“I don’t remember her,” Arthur lets out, “I thought it was— trauma or an effect from the drowning…”

“I have a friend who can see the future,” Merlin says, “she dreams of it sometimes. And she dreamt of the two of you and Sophia was drowning you in it. She told me that the day of your date, some hours after you visited me at the shop.”

“My last text from her,” Artur says, his breathing no longer under control, “she told me to meet her at the park—” he looks up at Merlin again, “you pulled me from the lake.”

“She put you under some kind of spell,” Merlin says, his voice unsteady, “you were just letting her do it and I stopped her. She ran off, and I went underwater to pull you out and she was gone.”

“She controlled my mind,” Arthur frowns, anger growing on him again. “and took away my memories, and you don’t think I should have known about it before this moment?”

“How could I tell you about something like this?” Merlin replies, “Would you believe me if I told you she used magic on you?”

“No, but—”

“And the only proof I have to show is my own magic,” Merlin continues, “I knew you for two weeks, Arthur, how could I show you this by then?”

“I thought I had some brain damage,” Arthur admits, voice trembling slightly, “I thought the drowning had messed with my head, like— lack of air in my blood or something! You let me think that all this time?”

Merlin steps back, wide eyed. “I— I didn’t know. Arthur, I’m so sorry—”

“And this girl tried to kill me and you didn’t think I’d have the right to know about it? What if she came back? God, Merlin, I tried to find her!”

Merlin shakes his head, “No, she’s gone.”

Arthur steps away, back pressing against the window frame, “Did you— _did you kill her?_ ”

“No!” Merlin lets out, shocked and repulsed at once. It calms Arthur down a bit. “No, I scared her off with magic, and then later I tried a tracking spell on her and she’s out of the country. Hasn’t been back either.”

At Arthur’s silence, he continues, faster and nervously, “Arthur, I never used magic to harm anyone, that was the first time I tried, and I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner either, I really am, but you’ve got to understand, this is something big. Proving to you magic is real is a lot to ask, to show you’re some kind of freak. It’s… it’s a lot.”

Arthur just nods, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. There is nothing in this conversation Arthur had been counting on when he had walked into the flat. He certainly wasn’t expecting anything about Sophia coming up. Or, well, superpowers. It’s odd, that Merlin was hiding something far more important than Dragoon, but it feels less personal. He can understand that revealing Sophia would be revealing himself in something that Arthur really has nothing to do with. Something that changes everything and turns Merlin into something else. Different.

“I really am sorry, Arthur,” Merlin says, his tone pleadingly familiar to the day he told Arthur about Dragoon.

Arthur nods, because he may not forgive him for it yet, but he believes he means it. Merlin _is_ sorry, and that’s a start. That’s something. He’s shown it a lot today. He stills for a second, and then turns around to close the window, taking the time to think back to some of the things Merlin has said this evening. Being a freak, his father the same and missing. Lab experiments. There’s a lot on stake for Merlin when he reveals what he can do, and he has done so to Arthur, who isn’t exactly on good terms with him right now. He has just put a lot of stuff in Arthur’s hand.

Arthur turns around again, and looks at Merlin, who doesn’t seem at all afraid of what Arthur could do with all the information he has given him. Merlin looks simply like he needs his forgiveness. “Do something else. With your powers.”

“Magic,” Merlin corrects again, but he takes the change in subject in a stride, probably thankful that Arthur is willing to drop the subject for now. He moves his hands, and a blue orb, glowing with light, grows between his hands. It flies to float in the air, above and between them.

“Can I touch it?” Arthur asks, and Merlin nods, the orb moving within his reach. Arthur slowly reaches a hand forward, touching it lightly with his fingertips, and when nothing bad happens, pressing his whole palm against it.

“I used to make this one a lot when I was a kid,” Merlin says, his eyes golden when Arthur looks away from the orb to glance at him, “Will and I used to sneak around off on adventures, and we needed something to light our way at night. It wasn’t that useful, it didn’t really stop me from bumping into everything in our way.”

Arthur nods. The surface of the orb is smooth underneath his hand, and it produces some kind of warmth that helps him calm down a little. “You can make it go away now.”

And just like that, the orb vanishes from his hands. There’s no faking that, not with something he was actually touching. Then it’s just gone. This is real, very real. Merlin has superpowers. Merlin just told him he has superpowers.

“You trust me,” he says surprised, looking at him again.

“Yeah,” Merlin says, with obvious relief, his posture sagging a bit. “I do.”

Somehow, that makes all the difference.

 


	21. Journey to the Cross Roads

Merlin is back at the club and Arthur isn’t sure what to make of it. He’s just shown up, two days after the whole superpowers revelation, and is now sitting at a table all by himself, watching Fight Dragons set up for their show that evening. It reminds Arthur a bit of when Merlin first started coming to the club, joining his side as if he’d always belonged there. But now Merlin doesn’t look his way, even though Arthur is constantly glancing at him from the bar. Maybe he hasn’t noticed. Or maybe he’s being polite for once.

“Did he tell you?” Elyan ask, looking over at Merlin as well, “about his secret?”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t elaborate, turning back to his friend.

“What is it?”

“It’s personal,” Arthur says. He hasn’t tried to contact Merlin since that night, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been thinking about him. He still can’t quite believe that Merlin is some kind of X-men, like that’s the sort of world they live in. It’s unbelievable, it’s dangerous, and it’s powerful, and a warm feeling blooms in his chest every time he realizes the trust Merlin has put in him. Arthur might have pushed him a bit towards it, but nothing stopped Merlin from lying, from revealing something else, from thinking Arthur’s friendship wasn’t worth letting him know. Merlin had been planning to tell him what he can do, had deemed him trustworthy. 

It might not be much, in the grand scheme of things, since Arthur has done nothing to make Merlin distrust him, but what Merlin has given him goes beyond the usual trust people have in each other. It goes beyond what Arthur had ever expected, and it means a lot.

“Are you friends again?” Elyan asks, “did you forgive him?”

“We still have a lot to discuss,” Arthur replies. “But maybe, yes.”

“And whatever he told you fixed things?” Elyan asks, not sounding too convinced.

“He gave me power over him,” Arthur says. Power he hadn’t asked for, but power nonetheless. It’s overwhelming, but he recalls Merlin’s eyes going from gold to blue, and he has to hold back a smile.

Elyan looks almost as surprised as Arthur was when he had realized it. Then he leans forward, an elbow resting on the counter, “Arthur, if he told you that he loves you—”

“ _ What _ ?” Arthur lets out, his face burning.

“Look, mate, I know how you feel about him, and probably so does Merlin. I don’t want him to take advantage of it—”

“That’s not—” Arthur lets out, trying to keep his voice under control. The last thing he wants is for Merlin to overhear this conversation, “You’re a good friend, but that’s not what happened. He didn’t tell me that.” He pushes back a memory, of Merlin looking so earnest as he tells him he wasn’t faking anything at the wedding, because that  _ wasn’t _ his secret, so it can’t really count. “It turns out it was barely about me at all.”

Elyan nods, frowning a little. Arthur sees himself in him again, a few days earlier when he was questioning everyone about Merlin’s secret. He feels bad about it now, if only because he brought everyone’s attention to the fact Merlin  _ does _ have a secret. Now he’s in Lancelot’s shoes, and he won’t even consider sharing what he knows with the others. It’s too personal, too important, even for him. Had Arthur known how little about him it was, he wouldn’t have pushed Merlin at all into telling him.

“It’s nothing you’d guess,” Arthur says, “or have to worry about. It’s something stupid about Merlin that he doesn’t want to share.”

“If you say so,” Elyan replies, but he glances at Merlin, as if he can’t help himself.

Arthur looks over his shoulder to look at him too, and catches Merlin’s eye, who winks at him. Arthur shakes his head, turning to Elyan again. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure you will,” Elyan says, with a small smirk. Arthur chooses to ignore it as he gets up, and moves to Merlin’s table. Merlin watches him all the way there, and Arthur looks back at him as he moves around some tables to reach him, thinking of what to say.

“I have questions,” Arthur says as he sits across from him. He puts his elbows down on the table, leaning forward a bit as he fixes his eyes on Merlin, who looks as he always has. His eyes are so blue.

Merlin struggles with holding back a smile as he nods. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Arthur doesn’t ask right away, trying to figure out how to best start with what he wants to know. One look at Merlin’s eager expression, no wariness in sight, makes the decision for him. “With a name like Merlin, why on Earth would you make up  _ Dragoon  _ for a stage name?”

Merlin lets out a laugh, startled into it, and a smile finally breaks across his face. Arthur, despite how Merlin has made him feel lately, has missed it; hearing it, seeing it. Doesn't mean he has to show it. "Hum," Merlin starts, tilting his head a bit, "Dragoon the Great, actually. I couldn't really use my name if I wanted to hide who I was, and," he shrugs, looking down bashfully, "I like dragons."

"Ridiculous," Arthur mutters, shaking his head. He feels lighter, pleased that it’s still easy to talk to Merlin despite everything, and it prompts him to continue to what he actually wanted to say. "... That day at the lake," he starts.

Merlin's smile fades fast, shoulders up and tense as he nods.

Arthur looks down at his hands on the table for a moment, before looking up at him. "You saved my life. I don't think I ever thanked you for it."

"Oh," Merlin says, eyes wide, "you're welcome? Not that you're actually thanking me now, just saying that you should. But," he shrugs again, "you're welcome anyway? I wasn't expecting you to be thankful, really."

Arthur just raises an eyebrow.

"I mean!" Merlin continues, hands coming up as he realizes what he just said, "of course you are, I mean, it's your life! Just, uh, didn't expect to hear it? You don't say it much. Or at all. Being around you is kind of a thankless job."

"Right," Arthur says slowly, holding back a smile of his own. There's nothing like riling Merlin up, and he has missed it, he has. He's not sure if he's surprised with how easy it is to fall back into it.

"And well," Merlin tilts his head down a bit to look up at Arthur, almost under his lashes, "that's not why I did it."

Arthur nods. Merlin has done a lot of things wrong, but he's done a lot of good too. Arthur knows he's in the right, but he also knows he should be fairer in his judgment. He needs to put things in perspective, and not just focus on what went wrong. Merlin is more than the prank.

"I notice you still haven't thanked me, though," Merlin continues, eyes sparkling as his mouth twists into an expectant smirk.

"You just said you didn't do it to get my thanks," Arthur replies.

"Doesn't mean it's not nice to hear it," Merlin leans a bit closer.

Arthur sighs loudly, eyes going up to the ceiling, before he drawls out, "Thank you."

Merlin is smiling again. "You're welcome." He pauses for a moment, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he ponders over something.

“Out with it,” Arthur says, turning slightly to the side.

“Are you scared of me?” Merlin asks, not quite meeting his eye, “Of what I can do?”

“What? No,” Arthur lets out, not even having to think about it. He stills, realizing the importance of how easily that came out, of the fact that he hasn’t even questioned if Merlin would do something to him. He looks at Merlin, who’s staring right back at him, mouth slightly open and eyes wide with surprise and hope. Merlin may have lied to him, but Arthur knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’d never willingly cause him harm. Merlin begins to smile, still looking at him, and Arthur adds quickly “Would make it sort of pointless to have saved my life, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe I didn’t understand how much of a prat you are,” Merlin say, still smiling. 

“And here I thought you were going to be less insulting towards me,” Arthur replies.

Merlin tilts his head to the side a little, his smile growing, “Just part of my charm.”

Arthur feels his own gaze soften as he looks at Merlin. For a moment he feels incredibly fond of him, seeing the man he has fallen for. In a way it’s nice to know he really exists, and can still be there for him. As insulting as he is. Merlin is looking back at him, quiet and eyes bright with hope, hand on the table as he leans a bit closer. These silences they share, where they get too caught up into looking at each other, are starting to get too heavy between them, and Arthur doesn’t know what to do with that.

“There’s something else I want to ask,” he says, clearing his throat a bit.

Merlin nods quickly, still not looking away.

Arthur has been thinking a lot about that night where he almost drowned, which remains annoyingly blank in his head. And Merlin’s version makes sense, well, as much sense as a story involving superpowers and mind control can make, but there’s something about it that has been nagging him.  “Morgana,” he says, his tone turning more serious again.

Merlin looks startled, blinking fast, and leans back a bit. “What?”

“She was with you at the park. Did she find out then? About your… thing?” he lowers his voice a little, looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard.

“She already knew by then,” Merlin says, hunching his shoulders a bit, not meeting his eyes, the easy mood from before gone.

“You went there because this friend of yours saw what would happen, but why would Morgana—” he stops mid sentence, breath catching in his throat as he makes a connection he’s pretty sure can’t be true. “Morgana… of course it’s not  _ her _ . It can’t be her. I would know.”

Merlin looks at him in distress. “I won’t lie to you, but I can’t tell you who it is. Arthur, it’s not my story, you’ve got to understand. It’s really not my place.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, mind reeling. His sister,  _ his sister, _ couldn’t see the future and have never told Arthur, right? They were close. Even when they argued they were close. But Merlin could just say it wasn’t her without lying or betraying everyone if Morgana really wasn’t a seer. And Morgana always had nightmares. He looks at Merlin again. She said she’s been sleeping better ever since she met Merlin.

“Can you tell me,” he asks slowly, trying to keep his heartbeat under control, “that she’s not a seer without lying to me?”

Merlin looks trapped, and Arthur waves him off before he speaks.

“Nevermind,” he says, turning slightly to the side and bringing a hand up to his face. While the whole superpowers thing had felt less personal than the Dragoon issue when coming from Merlin, it’s something entirely different when his sister is the one doing it. It had hit him more knowing she had thought it was something fun to do to him than Merlin’s participation had, but it’s nothing on the fact she’s been seeing the future for  _ years _ and didn’t trust Arthur with that knowledge.

Merlin rests a hand gingerly on his arm. “Arthur,” he says, but he clearly doesn’t know how to continue that sentence.

“I have to go,” Arthur gets up, turning to go to Morgana’s office, but stops, his hands still on the table, looking at Merlin again. She left hours ago, when her shift ended. “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” he says, frowning a bit, “Arthur, you really should think before—”

“I have to talk to her,” Arthur says, and hesitates for a moment before he asks, his voice softer, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Merlin nods slowly, not looking away from him. “I’ll be here.”

Arthur moves quickly to his office to gather his things, phone in his ear as he waits to be answered, the waiting tone annoying, especially as he holds the phone between his shoulder and his ear, hands busy putting on his jacket.

“Arthur?” Morgana asks, her tone suspicious.

“I think it’s about time we talk,” Arthur says, “can you come to my place?”

She hums, and takes while to reply, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

“I’ll see you then,” he says, and hangs up. 

He knows she has nothing going on, Morgana is just trying to make some sort of power move, to show who’s in control by making him wait for her, but he’s not in the mood to make an issue out of it. There’s already too much going on and, to be honest, an hour to think of what exactly he needs to say sounds good to him.

He turns up the radio as he drives home, trying to clear his head. There’s something about this whole mess that is making him anxious, that is not directly related to Morgana having superpowers too. Last week he didn’t even know that such thing was possible, and now he finds out that three people that he knows are able to do magic. Sophia can control minds, Merlin can do God knows what, with the making things fly and creating dragons out of nothing, and Morgana apparently can see the future. How many people with superpowers are there? It can’t be that little, if he knows about three this easily. He’s not some mutant magnet that draws people with superpowers to him, is he? Because it’s either that, or there are more people with abilities than he thought possible. Especially while keeping it secret. You’d think if there are so many of them around, they’d come out and make society accept them. 

But do they? His eyes widen as he finally reaches his building, somehow calm enough to park the car before he continues this line of thought. People claim to see ghosts and see the future and be Jesus or whatnot for a long time. If Merlin can do the things he does, then maybe those people aren’t just some idiots who want fame. Maybe a lot of people branded as crazy are being honest.

So maybe some people who claim to do impossible things aren’t actually lying about it, Arthur reasons as he goes up the lift, but does it stop there? Are ghosts real? How about mythical creatures? Vampires and werewolves? Mermaids? And does it stop at humanoids? Could there be unicorns and griffins and dragons?

_ Are dragons real? _ Arthur gets the sudden urge, as he closes the door behind him, to grab his phone and call Merlin to ask, but he stops himself from doing it. They can’t be real, that’s ridiculous. Everyone would know, for sure. You can’t just hide something that big. It’s just not possible.

In any case, Arthur reminds himself as he settles down on his couch, grabbing the remote, none of that is relevant for what’s yet to come. He can’t believe he’s about to confront his sister about being a seer, as if that’s something he can rationally argue with her about. Merlin is right, he should have taken the time to think this over, because he doesn’t know where to start, what to even say. 

“So you see the future,” Arthur asks out loud, testing it out, as he turns on the television, “and couldn’t see how you’d fuck everything up?”

He lets out a sigh, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what to argue, what points to make, what to ask. He acted on impulse, and he wants answers from her, and he wants to know why couldn’t she trust him. Had he done something wrong? He had always thought they could trust each other, but that’s clearly not the case anymore.

The sound coming from the telly is faded and doesn’t really register with him, as he frowns, thinking. Morgana’s coming soon, and she won’t have to do much to make him agree with her, he knows this. Morgana will be more than ready by the time she arrives, and he needs to remind himself that she doesn’t trust him, not really, and that she thought it was fun to trick him with Merlin for months, even when she knew how Arthur felt about him. She’s going to twist what happened into something else, until she makes herself the victim and Arthur ends up being the one doing the apologising.

Arthur turns off the television, figuring he’s not actually watching it, and checks the time. He still has around half an hour, good. He needs to work out a strategy to argue back, and get the answers he needs without giving in into Morgana’s arguments. That’s going to take some time.


	22. The Black Gate is Closed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! My treat to you guys is the bump on the fic's rating from pg to mature (;

Morgana looks the same as always as she strides into his flat, chin raised and hair flowing down her back. She pauses, posture softening as her eyes rest on her painting, still hanging in the hall. It is a sloppy work, one of Morgana’s first attempts at painting, but the hill on the lake still makes Arthur feel at peace. It always has, even when he’s mad at Morgana.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, closing the door.

Morgana digs in her enormous purse, pulling out a bottle. “You have terrible taste in wine, so I brought my own.”

He knows Morgana’s kind of peace offering when he sees it. “I’ll get the glasses. Go sit down.” He moves to the kitchen to get the wine glasses and coasters, bringing them to the dining table, where Morgana is waiting. He puts down the items he brought over, opening the wine bottle and pouring them both a drink. He sits down across from her.

Morgana takes a sip, her eyes on him. “I suppose you’re done with whining around.”

"No, I just need answers," Arthur says, already annoyed. He had known this wouldn't be easy, but Morgana's not making any effort. "I want to know everything."

"Well, there's not much to tell, brother," she says, looking down at the glass of wine. "Once I realized that you didn't know Merlin was Dragoon, I thought it could be fun to see how long it'd take for you to see it. It was a harmless joke, Arthur."

"It wasn't harmless," Arthur replied, gritting his teeth.

"I hurt your pride, big deal. You're being a baby."

"It wasn't my pride, Morgana! You made me— " he stops, forcing out a harsh breath through his nose. She made him feel stupid, but he's not about to tell her so. "You made me a laughing stock for months. You lied to me."

"I hardly lied," Morgana says, "and everyone lies, I don't see you throwing a hissy fit at the whole world."

"I don't."

"Have you told Merlin about your activities with Leon?" Morgana replies, looking at him, "Or does lying by omission not count when you're the one doing it?"

Arthur's hand closes in a fist, "That's not the same."

"I figured as much," Morgana says smugly, and takes another sip.

"What does he have to do with it? Before this mess, we hardly got up to it for a year," he says, "it has never affected Merlin in any way."

"You still keep it from him."

"Because it never came up!" Arthur replies, voice raising slightly, "I never made him think I didn't do it either, not intentionally!" He stops, frowning, "Wait a minute, how did you even know we got back to it?"

"I have my ways," Morgana says, pulling some hair over her shoulder, "And have you told Merlin you're in love with him then?" she asks, raising her chin. "That's something about him you're not sharing with him either."

"Because I'm not doing it to mock him," Arthur continues, frowning at her, "it's not something what would hurt him if he found out."

"We didn't think the Dragoon business would hurt you either. So what if we didn't tell you as a joke? You made a huge deal out of it, Arthur, certainly it's not as devastating as you say it is. You hardly saw Dragoon at all!"

"It's not about how many times I saw him, it's about you turning me into a joke for your amusement," Arthur says again, his back tense. 

"It wasn't quite like that," Morgana sighs, looking up to the ceiling for a moment, "we weren't meeting up in secret and laughing at you, we simply waited to see when you would realize. To be honest, we forgot about it half the time. None of us intended to hurt your feelings."

Arthur just looks at her, frowning a bit. She says that, yes, and he can believe her. He wouldn't have so easily a few days ago, but believing Merlin apparently has made things easier for him to believe in Morgana too. But there's still something that needs to be said. He waits a bit, seeing if she continues, but Morgana seems content with sipping her wine and raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you sorry at all?" Arthur asks, annoyed to have to lead the conversation to it. Merlin had told him he was sorry several times without prompting and Morgana can't even think of saying it herself.

"I'm sorry to have hurt your feelings," Morgana says, managing to sound both honest and condescending.

"Don't do it again," Arthur says, holding back a sigh.

"Of course, but I don't see when I would have to apologise again, brother," Morgana says pleasantly, and laughs at his sour look. "I won't, Arthur."

Arthur nods, and grabs his own wine glass, taking a sip. The wine is tasteful, with a hint of strawberry, and it's smooth, easily swallowed. It is a good wine, but then again, Morgana would never buy any without quality.

"Now was that all? I can't believe it was so hard to have this conversation. You've been avoiding me for a week."

Arthur puts down the glass. "No, there's something else. Merlin told me about Sophia." He looks up at her at the end of the sentence, in time to see her stiffen quickly with surprise, before she makes herself relax.

"Has he now? What did he tell you?" she asks casually.

"About his powers," Arthur says, eyes still on her, "about how she tried to drown me, only that he has a friend who had a vision of it happening so he could prevent it."

He lets the words hang between them, hoping that at least in this she'll take initiative. He feels bad for forcing Merlin's hand regarding his powers, and it's the reason he's not confronting her as he had planned to do, even though he wants to ask a lot about it.

"And what do you think?" she asks, "of his magic?"

"I don't know," Arthur says honestly, "It explains some things. And he can do a lot."

"Are you afraid of him?" Morgana asks, her tone defensive. "Of what he is? Merlin's not a monster who—"

"I know that," Arthur frowns, "he's just Merlin. Couldn't harm a fly if he wanted to, would probably trip on something and hurt himself instead."

"Good," she says, and gets up. "Well, if we're done, then I think it's time I leave."

"Morgana," Arthur says, looking up at her. Morgana stills, eyes wide and glancing to the side, her mouth opening in hesitance as she closes her hands together over her stomach. "I don't remember much from the time around Sophia," he says slowly, "but the morning of that last day, I was with you, wasn't I? You warned me about her and I didn't listen."

Morgana looks unsure, but she's not backing away, she's not denying it either. She just looks at him, eyes shifting as she tries to reach a decision.

Arthur gets up slowly. "So you warned Merlin instead. That's why you were at the park with him."

"I wanted to help," Morgana says, her voice wavering a little, "I couldn't see it happen again."

She turns quickly, moving to the front hall in fast steps. Arthur goes around the table to follow her, with long strides to catch up, but he has no need. Morgana is in the hall again, her back to the front door as she looks at its opposite wall, as if something has stopped her from leaving. Arthur stops beside her and turns to see what she's looking at, and comes across her painting again.

"I dream of this lake often," Morgana says softly, "sometimes there's a boat, some times there's someone at the shore. You're never there, but it always makes me think of you."

Arthur keeps looking at the painting in silence. It's not the lake where he drowned, he knows that. But the painting has always felt personal, even though Morgana never actually gave it to him, or said it was about him before. Arthur just picked it up from their father's home because he always liked it, and it had felt wrong to leave it there to gather dust in a corner when it meant something to him.

"I can never go to the shore," Morgana continues, "I don't know what it means."

Arthur doesn't either. "You should paint more often," he says, instead, "it's been awhile since you last did."

"It's been awhile since I had one of those dreams," Morgana replies.

Arthur turns away from the painting, looking at her. "You know you can trust me, don't you? No matter what. You’re safe with me."

Morgana looks at him, mouth closed tightly and eyes wide, and then steps closer, moving into his space until her cheek is resting on Arthur's shoulder, her hand closing on his shirt at his chest. Arthur hesitates, and slowly puts his arms around her. He meant what he said, he might not trust her back, but he'd do anything for his sister. 

"You're very dear to me, brother," Morgana says, her face hidden from view.

He gets a hand on the back of her head, fingers trailing down her hair to her back, in a slow soothing gesture. He presses his cheek against the top of her head, pulling her closer by the arm he has around her. "I love you, Morgana," he says, "doesn't mean I'm forgiving you just yet."

"I didn't mean any harm," she says.

"I think I believe that," Arthur answers, still petting her hair.

"You won't tell Uther, will you?"

"Only if you want me to," Arthur says, "although I don't see what could be so bad with him knowing—"

"That I'm a freak who sees the future?" Morgana pulls back, frowning at him. Arthur lets his hands drop to his sides again. "You know how he feels about fortune tellers and magicians, how do you think he'll react if I tell him that's something I can really do?"

"But it's real," Arthur says, "it's not a show, you're not selling it on the streets—"

"I don't want to tell him about it," Morgana says, "and why should he know? It's not about him. It changes nothing."

“Is that why you never told me?” he asks at last.

“You wouldn’t be able to do anything to help, so why bother?”

“I could have been there for you,” he says, looking at her.

Morgana looks back at him, face softening with surprise. “From now on, then.” She looks away, and when she turns back it’s her chin high again, a smirk playing on her lips. Their rare emotional moment is over. “Now, I’m sure you have a lot to complain about, and the bottle I brought over is still awfully full. We should do something about that.”

Arthur nods in agreement. He gives the painting a last look, before moving to the living room. He knows a peace offering when he sees it.

 

"Gaius doesn't like that I've told you I have magic," Merlin sighs, slumping down on his seat, "he's been giving me judgmental looks for days."

"Does he think I'll have you burnt at the stake?" Arthur replies.

"You're a fountain of wit and originality," Merlin replies, nudging him slightly. "He doesn't like talking much about it, and even less that I use it."

"Do you do it often?" Arthur asks.

"I try to help some people who come to the shop," Merlin says, "healing isn't my strong suit, but it's not like I can do much without attracting attention anyway."

"So you could use your superpowers to be some sort of faith healer," Arthur raises his eyebrows, "and you chose to be a magician."

"Everyone thinks it's just tricks when I'm a magician," Merlin says quickly in his own defense, "it's the perfect disguise!"

"Are there many people like you?" Arthur asks, looking at him.

"I don't know," Merlin says, with a small shrug. "It's not like we have online forums, or wizard tinder or something. I know of..." he pauses, eyes going up as he counts with his fingers, "...four people."

"Is that a lot?" Arthur asks.

Merlin shrugs again. "I don't know? I've met, actually met around the same amount of queer people."

Arthur nods with a small frown, trying not to ask what Merlin means by  _ actually met _ . He stops, remembering something. "Merlin," he says slowly, turning to him, "does Gaius still think we're dating?"

"Hum," Merlin looks away, his ears turning slightly pink, "maybe? I told him we weren't doing so well when he noticed I stopped coming here to meet you, but it's not like we talk much about my love life." Merlin pauses again, and continues kind of awkwardly, "not that I, hum, have much of a love life to speak of." And then adds quickly, before Arthur can even process what he's saying, "What about your father? Did you tell him?"

"He's still on his honeymoon," Arthur says, glancing down a bit, "he's in a swamp somewhere, collecting mud for some reason. He didn't ask about you when I called, so I just didn't mention it."

Arthur looks up to Merlin, and they're caught staring at each other again as Arthur realizes that neither of them tried to tell their families that they're not actually dating, that it was fake.  _ It was never fake _ , Merlin's voice comes up in his head, his revelation still popping up at the worst times, but Arthur pushes it aside again. It's still not the time to think about that.

"Your father is spending his honeymoon in a swamp?" Merlin asks, conscious enough of what Arthur doesn't want to talk about. "Doesn't he have enough money to go to a decent beach?"

"It was Catrina's idea," Arthur says, "my father already visited most places he wished, so for the honeymoon they're doing mostly programs she enjoys. He told me they went horse riding last week, apparently she loves being around stables."

"Wait, does your father know how to ride horses?"

"You say it like it's an unusual skill."

Merlin's eyes wide, "Do you do it?"

"It's been awhile since I last did it," Arthur says, not understanding his surprise, "but I like to ride."

"Uh," Merlin replies absently, eyes glazed over as if his mind just went somewhere else, gone in the middle of a conversation, like there's something special in imagining Arthur on a horse. His ears turn slightly pink, to Arthur's confusion.

Arthur goes back to what he said, trying to see what could he have done, and stills when he realizes how exactly he had phrased that. Suddenly in his mind flashes the image of Merlin beneath him on his bed between Arthur's legs, his flushed lips parting, his hand gripping Arthur's hips as he sinks down on Merlin’s lap, stretched and full— 

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Merlin," Arthur says, unable to meet his eyes, his own cheeks heating up. Again, not something he can deal with at the moment. Especially at his workplace. Especially with Merlin right there.

"What? I wasn't— No, that's not... I wasn't!" Merlin lets out, eyes wide, hands waving as he gestures, his cheeks as red as Arthur feels his own must be. There’s an awkward, tense moment where they’re both quiet and unwilling to look at each other. "Hum, so, horses! Pity your stage isn't big enough for you to ride one on it, but then again, it's not big enough for your ego either."

"Hilarious," Arthur replies, glad for the change of subject again, his heart still pounding. "Speaking of, we're still holding auditions for Monday nights," he says slowly, looking at Merlin again.

Merlin looks back at him, leaning a bit closer. "Can I... can I come?"

“Friday morning,” Arthur says, “nine o’clock sharp.”

“Dragoon can come back?” Merlin asks, a smile growing on his face.

“If you want. Or you could show up as yourself. It’s your choice.”

Merlin looks at him, eyes bright and smiling at him. His hand moves across the table, touching Arthur’s lightly. “I’ll think about that.”

Arthur slowly pulls his hand back. “Don’t try too hard, you know that can’t be good for your head.”

Merlin’s smile falters a bit, as he closes his own hand, pulling it into his lap. “Fountain of wit,” he says again, a bit lamely. He looks at Arthur again. “So you’re okay with me doing magic?”

Arthur wants to see more of his magic, he wants Merlin to be comfortable enough with it  that he stops needing to be so secretive. He’s okay with the magic tricks, with the superpowers. He’s just not going to say anything mushy about it.

“You should audition as yourself,” he tries again, “it’s just as you said, no one will assume the truth, and you can still make people believe. I want you to always be you.” He pauses, the last bit having slipped out without his permission.

Merlin grins now, and looks down bashfully, hand rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, hum. Maybe. We’ll see.” Merlin glances at him again, giving him that look that makes Arthur’s heart race, eyes bright, as if Arthur himself is inspiring. It’s a bit overwhelming.

"But no card tricks," Arthur says, pointing a finger at him. "That doesn't get to be on my stage."

"What's wrong with card tricks?" Merlin replies, his smile turning amused, "you seem to like mine."

"Not on stage," Arthur says, trying not to think about why exactly he likes when Merlin plays with cards. His eyes go down to Merlin's hands, his long fingers, and quickly looks up to Merlin's face. "It's different."

"So only impossible, awe inspiring magic," Merlin nods, "got it." He pauses for a moment, head tilting slightly to the side, "You know, if my audition is turning every other contestant into frogs, would that mean I get the gig?"

"Lack of competition won't do you any favours, Merlin," Arthur replies amused. Then he frowns. "Hang on, you can turn people into frogs?"

"Never tried," Merlin says, "but if you're willing, I can give it a shot on you. You already look like a toad, so it can't be that hard."

"Idiot," Arthur reaches without a thought, looping an arm around Merlin's neck and pulling him into a headlock. He grins over the crown of Merlin's dark hair, not bothered by the hands pressing on his sides as Merlin tries to pull himself away. Arthur lets out a laugh at Merlin's exasperated sounds, and he allows himself one more moment before he lets go of him, leaning back on his chair to put some distance between them again. He's missed this.


	23. A Short Rest

A shadow comes across him, blocking the unforgiving sun. Arthur lifts his head, which had been bent low as he panted, only propped up by the elbows on his knees. He looks up to see Gwaine standing in front of him, crossing his arms. Behind him in the field Elyan is chasing Percy around with something that looks like a dirty sock. "You know Merlin's secret." 

"You know it too," Arthur realizes, "That's why you made those vague speeches about his privacy."

"Merlin says you're alright with it," Gwaine sits down next to him on the bench, handing him a water bottle. "It was still a dick move to force it out of him."

"That's not what I did," Arthur says, taking the bottle, "I didn't know what it was, Merlin made it sound like it was about me." He opens the bottle, and then turns to Gwaine, "Did he tell you too?"

Gwaine shakes his head. "I knew something was up, but figured he'd come to me whenever he was ready, if he ever wanted me to know. Meanwhile, I'd just be there for whatever he needed." Gwaine pauses for a moment. "Merlin was my first real friend. I had mates, and people I got along with, don't get me wrong, I'm the life of the party, but Merlin cared more for me than the fun we had. I didn't know what I was missing out on before he showed up." He takes a sip of his own water, and Arthur waits, curious to know more about this. "Merlin's special, and it has nothing to do with his magic. He cares deeply, and once he does, he's loyal to you no matter what. You won't ever find a truer person than him, even when he keeps stuff to himself."

Arthur nods, quiet for a moment. "He trusts."

"Yeah, he does," Gwaine says, his tone serious. "so if you do any shit to betray that trust, I'm gonna make damn sure you regret it."

Arthur looks at him, and nods again. Seems fair. "How did you find out, then?" he asks, "About what he can do."

"Woke up one day in his flat with a massive hangover," Gwaine says, smirking as he obviously remembers that night, "and I wandered into the kitchen to see if there was something to eat, and there he was. Merlin figured I'd be sleeping for a few more hours, and the kitchen was a fucking mess, we had been using chips as throwing practice. Anyway, he was sweeping the floor with a magic broom, like that Mickey mouse movie, you know the one?"

Arthur doesn't, actually, but he nods anyway. "And then?"

"Merlin sees me, the broom just falls flat on the floor, loud as fuck, just what I needed before some ibuprofen, man. I don't know what he expected, but he looked scared, shrinking into himself. So I just pat him on the shoulder, told him to make less noise next time and asked where the frying pan was so I could make us breakfast. And that was it."

Arthur chuckles lightly, trying to imagine the scene. "Were you scared?" he asks, but he already knows the answer.

"Nah, mate," Gwaine laughs. "I was surprised, sure, but have you met Merlin? Lanky little thing like him, couldn't be scary even if he tried. Why, were you?”

“No,” Arthur says, “but Merlin and Morgana asked me if I was. Wondered if maybe it was the usual response to him.”

“Don’t think so. Have you asked the others?” Gwaine looks at him.

Arthur glances down at the bottle in his hands. “Lance. And Will?” he guesses. “How do they know?”

“Never really had a group chat where we discuss how we knew,” Gwaine says, “but I know it was by accident.”

“Oh,” Arthur pauses, taking a sip of his drink. “So who has he told?”

"Freya," Gwaine says, sounding surprised by the question. "He told her."

"Oh." Arthur frowns a bit, trying to remember when he last heard that name. Morgana had told him Merlin had dated her. Wasn't she the meek girl that came with Merlin's friend when they first met? He hasn't seen her since, but she must be important to Merlin.

"Will knows more about it," Gwaine says, "he's the one who knew them at the time." He pauses, taking in Arthur's face and grins, nudging his side hard with an elbow. "Jealous?"

"No," Arthur answers quickly, almost wincing as he does it, because while true, it certainly didn't sound that way.

"You know you have no reason to, mate," Gwaine says, smirk wide in his face. "We both know who Merlin’s got his eye on."

"Shouldn't you be respecting his privacy?" Arthur says, drinking more water so he has an excuse not to meet Gwaine's eye.

"Let me rephrase that," Gwaine says, his tone both smug and amused, "we  _ all _ know who Merlin’s got his eye on. And it's not like no one knows who you've been eyeing either."

"Really now," Arthur says, a touch more aggressively that he intended, his shoulders tensing.

"Yeah, really," Gwaine says, clearly not bothered by it. "So I wonder when are you going to do something about it."

"Why do I have to be the one to take that step?" Arthur asks, frowning, "everyone keeps telling me—"

"What makes you think we’re not saying the same stuff to Merlin?" Gwaine replies, raising his eyebrows. 

Arthur shuts his mouth, not having expected to hear that.

"The ball's in your court. He's done his part, now it's up to you to let him know what you want."

"Has he?"

"Come on, mate, he's all but said it."

Merlin has sort of said it too, but Arthur doesn't mention that. He has sort of said it himself as well, but that was before Dragoon. He's still stupidly attracted to Merlin, that much is, unfortunately, obvious, but he's not sure if he's ready to do something about it. They've only sort of made up a few days ago, and last time Arthur decided to take action on his feelings things had blown up. He's not expecting it to happen again, but there's a part of him that wonders what would he find out this time.

Gwaine notices his hesitation, and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Look, you know what's best for you, but this isn't only about yourself. If you don't want to have him like that, that's fine, but you've got to let him know. You can't lead him on."

"I need time," Arthur forces himself to say, to explain that much. He's still looking ahead, instead of at Gwaine, eyes on the others as Will trips Elyan, jumping on him before he can get up.

"Then tell him that. Merlin can handle it," Gwaine says. "He should know if he has to wait, and decide if he wants to."

Arthur nods, and tips back the water bottle, drinking the rest of it in large gulps. He's told Merlin he needs time, but he hasn't exactly been specific regarding to what. Merlin's smart enough to understand, he's sure of it. He puts down the bottle and claps Gwaine on the shoulder. "Come on. Practice isn't over."

"You gonna teach me that kick properly," Gwaine says, getting up, and tugging Arthur along, "You're a shit teacher and I'm sick of falling on my ass."

"Or you're just a bad student," Arthur replies, amused as he walks with him towards the others, "who doesn't know how to follow simple instructions."

"At least I'm handsome," Gwaine says, grinning, "and don't need special kicks to catch anyone's attention."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Arthur asks.

Gwaine grins at him, throwing him a wink before he runs off. "If you manage to teach me the move now, I'll buy a round for the team at your pub!"

"I don't own a pub," Arthur replies, catching up to him.

"Sure you don't," Gwaine gets to the ball and kicks it at him. "As long as you have some beer, mate, I don't care what you call it. Or I can buy it at another place, your loss."

"Very funny," Arthur catches the ball, "Tonight? With everyone?"

"If I don't learn this shit you're buying," Gwaine grins.

"And why would I do that?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I'm inviting Merlin and I don't think you've ever seen him drunk."

Arthur only hesitates for a moment. "Seven, at the club."

Gwaine smirks, moving so his hair swings, “Pub.”

It turns out everyone is too exhausted after practice to even think about going out for drinks, so to Gwaine's immense and loud disappointment, they all just sit around in the stands. Arthur loves the feeling of sore muscles, the pleasant warmth from exercising, and most of all the satisfaction of sinking onto the stools and going limp. Gwaine, who's lying across some seats a few rows behind him, using Percy's lap as a headrest and Elyan's as a footstool, seems to agree.

Leon and Lancelot are a few rows below, chatting quietly, and Arthur takes a moment to decide not to join them, sitting down next to Will instead. Everyone else is far away enough they can't be overheard if they're quiet, and Arthur has some things he wants to know.

Will looks at him with suspicion, but doesn't move away. Then again, Arthur has never really seen him back off anything. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk," Arthur says.

Will snorts, "Sure fucking thing you just want to chat. This has nothing to do with Merlin then?"

Arthur crosses his arms, puffing out. "And if it does? I just want to know about you and him."

Will frowns at him, giving him a long look. "Look, mate, I'm as straight as it can get, alright, we snogged like, one time when we were kids and I love him, yeah, but I can't get it up for him, so if that's—"

"It isn't!" Arthur replies, with far too many unwanted images in his head now. "I figured as much."

"Dumb as you are, you never know," Will says, with a small shrug. "It’s not like it didn't take you forever to pick up on Merlin's stupid crush."

"That's not what I want to talk about," Arthur says, doing his best not to get agitated. "I wanted to ask how did you find out about what he can do."

"Shit, I don't know," Will makes a face, face pinched as he tries to remember. "Was it that time I fell off of a roof and he stopped me from hitting the ground? No, the thing with the snake happened first. Or was it the fire at old man Simmons' farm?" Will scratches his head, and then shrugs, giving up. "Don't remember, mate. I've know Merlin my whole life, it was too long ago. We were kids and he used it to save my life. Not sure which time was the first."

Arthur looks at him, surprised. "You don't remember?"

"I was like, six years old or something. It wasn't that surprising and he saved my life. Do you remember everything from when you were a kid?"

"Not everything, but some things stay with you."

"Yeah, if they matter," Will replies, "Merlin doing stuff so we can sneak around or save our asses was never something new."

Arthur nods. He glances at Will, and then asks, "And Freya?"

"What about her?"

"He told her, didn't he? She didn't find out."

"Yeah, he told Freya," Will says, "he loved her."

Arthur stills, breathless for a moment. "That's why he told her?" he asks, aiming for casual.

"I argued with him on it," Will says, "Merlin, dumb as a doorknob, kept going on how he wanted her to know, didn't want to keep something like that a secret when dating her. I told him to keep his mouth shut, but he didn't listen."

_ 'I want you to know it, Arthur, I really do _ ' Merlin's voice, trembling slightly as it had the night he admitted to having a secret, rings in his head. Arthur uncrosses his arms, his hands going to his knees. "Oh."

"It went well," Will admits, "she didn't freak out or anything.  And they dated for a while."

"How did it end?" Arthur asks, not really that interested, but needing something to keep his mind from jumping to conclusions about Merlin's feelings. "They're still friends, aren't they?"

"Yeah, that's why," Will said, "they figured they were better off as friends. Bullshit, if you ask me, don't see why they couldn’t keep going at it if they were still friends who were into each other, but that's Merlin for you."

"And she's the only person he ever told," Arthur says.

Will raises an eyebrow. "No, stupid, he's told you too."

Arthur nods, not wanting to voice it. Saying it out loud would lead to making a connection between the two cases he doesn't actually know is true. He can't just assume what Merlin is feeling, even if he knows Merlin likes him. 

He looks ahead, where Leon is laughing, hands on his stomach as he throws his head back, at something Lancelot is telling him. Arthur turns to Will again. “And Lance? How did he know?”

"It was something really weird, I don't remember much," Will frowns a bit, "I think Lancelot was about to be trampled by a horse or a bull or something, and Merlin saved him."

"Sensing a pattern here," Arthur comments, "did Merlin save everyone who knows?"

"Yeah? Wait, no," Will shakes his head, "your sister caught him doing magic at the shop."

"Of course she did," Arthur says, and he can just imagine the scene. Merlin using his powers a bit too carelessly and Morgana walking in, surprised only for a second before she demands to know everything.

"Yeah, she's really something," Will says, a smirk growing a bit on his face.

"That's my sister you're talking about," Arthur frowns at him. 

"Yeah, I know. Dunno how she's related to you at all, though. Besides even you can see she's hot as fuck."

"She's  _ my sister _ !" Arthur repeats, "I don't and I also don't want to hear about it!"

"Yeah, well, I don't want to hear about you and Merlin, who's practically my brother," he stresses the last part, "and yet neither of you can shut up about the other. I've heard more about certain body parts of yours than I'm interested in listening to."

"Hum," Arthur feels his cheeks getting warm, and he looks away. "What body— No, I don't want to know."

"Me neither!" Will replies, as Arthur gets up. "That's the problem!"

"Yeah, good chat. I have to discuss something important with Leon," Arthur says, and quickly moves away. This conversation is something he really doesn’t want to continue.

"Talk to Merlin so I don't have to deal with this anymore!" Will demands, a bit louder than Arthur would have liked, as it makes Gwaine laugh, and Leon and Lancelot turn to give him knowing looks.

Arthur doesn't reply, moving down some rows to join those two, sitting down next to Leon. "Why does everyone think that just because I'm talking to Merlin again it means that I should ask him out?"

He knows he's not getting the answer he wants when Lance and Leon share a look between them. It's Leon who replies. "Maybe because you want to."

"Not at this moment I don't," Arthur says. "Will doesn't seem to understand that."

"Will is... forward," Lancelot says, "he doesn't hold back, and he's more interested in Merlin's side than yours."

"And Morgana's," Arthur mutters, "I should not have heard anything like that about her."

Leon frowns. "What did he say?"

"I really don't want to talk about it," Arthur shakes his head. 

"If he was disrespectful—" Leon starts, turning to glare at Will.

"A bit, but it doesn't matter," Arthur sighs. The last thing he needs is for Leon to go off to fight for her honor, as if Morgana can't do it for herself. "Merlin's joining the auditions tomorrow," he says to change the subject, "I want you and Morgana there."

Lancelot smiles widely, "Merlin's performing again?"

"We'll see. If he does well enough in the auditions I'll consider it," Arthur says, but even he doesn't really buy it.

"Fight Dragons will be relieved they get their Mondays free again," Leon says, nodding. "And people still ask after Dragoon. If you think you're okay with having him back..."

"I told Merlin he should audition as himself this time."

Lancelot turns to him, serious. "And if he doesn't?"

"Then he doesn't. It's his choice," Arthur says, with a shrug. "Either way works for me. I'd rather if Merlin would be more open about himself, but Dragoon is already known by our clients, so he'd be easier to sell at first."

"That's true," Leon says with a nod, "but Merlin's younger look would sell better to our clientele."

"Yes," Arthur says quickly. Merlin's look being good for business is not something he wants to focus on, "but everyone will be comparing him to the only other magic act we've had. People's perceptions are tricky, and they might think less of his tricks out of loyalty to Dragoon."

"They'll love him either way," Lancelot says with confidence, smiling again.

Yes they will, Arthur agrees, but he thinks that voicing that would say too much, so he only nods. There’s a lot he doesn’t want to say out loud today.

"Alright, here's the deal," Gwaine says, making the three of the turn to see the rest of the group now at the row right behind them. "If Merlin gets the gig, I'm buying everyone a round at the pub."

"You really want us to get drunk at my place of employment," Arthur says amused, "And you should know you can't bribe me into giving him the job."

“I know that, princess,” Gwaine says, and gives him a wink, “but I don’t really have to, do I? If you could replace Merlin you’d have done so already.”

“I’m not opening a tab for you,” Elyan says leaning his weight a bit on Gwaine, “I know your type.”

“How do you feel about checks?” Gwaine replies, wiggling his eyebrows.

“From you I’m not even taking credit cards,” Elyan grins.

“That’s a good call,” Leon says with a nod, holding back a smirk.

“Only hand him drinks after he pays you in cash,” Arthur adds.

“You all wound me!” Gwaine lets out dramatically, “The lack of trust! I am honestly in pain!” He leans over the back of their bench, leaning towards Lancelot. “Lance, you gorgeous thing, will you lend me money? I can work for it,” he adds, flipping his hair and throwing him a flirtatious look. 

Everyone’s laughing as Percy lays a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder, saying, “I don’t think that’s working for him, buddy.”

“Yeah?” Gwaine turns to him with a smirk. “Is it working for you?”

“You know that’s the sort of thing I throw people out of the club for, right?”

“And for what sort of thing would you to throw my legs over your handsome shoulders, big guy?”

There’s a long moment of stunned silence. Percy turns red in the face. Gwaine winks at him. Will laughs loudly, “Now that’s how you get in someone’s pants! That was fine as fuck, man, I’ll pay you half the round.”

Gwaine laughs, obviously pleased. “Now we’re definitely drinking tomorrow!”

They laugh it off, but Arthur notices Percy’s hand stays on Gwaine’s shoulder. Maybe it can be that simple for some people. No wonder they keep bugging him about Merlin. He pushes the subject aside. “If Merlin gets the job,” he says, because as much as they all know it’s going to be him, Arthur is adamant to have an audition. You never know. “Then you should all come after dinner for drinks. On Gwaine.”


	24. Barrels out of Bond

Merlin auditions as himself. It's another experience entirely, to watch Merlin perform on a stage. The tricks, while awe inspiring, are similar to Dragoon's, his method is the same, and he still closes his eyes every time, but Merlin stands straight, looking very fine in his suit, his cheekbones, as Arthur had always imagined, sharp under the stage lightning, and Arthur doesn't know what else to look but between them and his hands. Dragoon gave the show the old magician charm, Merlin makes it more mystic. Maybe it's because Arthur  _ knows _ , but Merlin makes magic seem a real possibility, while Dragoon had obviously been a cham. Merlin even has the gall to throw him a wink, and reveal his last act as a card trick.

"I'm going to need some help from the audience for this one," he says, smiling widely as his eyes stay on Arthur's. "Arthur?"

And here’s another new thing that makes all the difference: Merlin actually speaks on stage now and he’s as obnoxious as ever. Morgana is snickering as Arthur gets up from her side. He pushes slightly on the side of her head, but that doesn't stop her, and at least one of them should look professional in front of the other contestants, so he marches up the stage, stopping beside Merlin, his arms crossed. "What did I say about card tricks, Merlin?"

"Everyone loves to participate, Arthur," Merlin says, a deck appearing out of nothing, and Merlin spreads the cards, showing them to the audience. "Now check the deck."

Arthur sighs, taking the cards from him and looking through the deck, shooting Merlin a look that he returns with another wink. They both know what he's doing is pointless. 

"Just a normal deck, isn't it? Pick a card and hand the rest back to me. Show it to the public."

Arthur does as told, and watches Merlin shuffle the deck like a professional, cards flying and flipping between his hands. Arthur looks up from them to Merlin's face, because of course his eyes are closed. He's been focusing so much on Merlin's hands during these bits that he had never seen that before, hadn't made the connection, but it makes sense. Clumsy as he is, Merlin would never shuffle cards like that without the help of his powers.

"Now place the card anywhere you want on the deck," Merlin says, handing it back to him. "And then shuffle it."

Arthur shows everyone where he places the card, and doesn't do such a good job at shuffling the cards as Merlin did, but he has no superpowers to aid him and he doesn't drop anything, his movements still smooth enough before he hands the deck back to Merlin.

"I'm going to use my magic," Merlin says, a hand resting on the top of the deck, "and the next card I'll pull from the top of the deck will be the one you've picked."

"I'm sure it will," Arthur draws out, crossing his arms again.

Merlin's hand hovers over the deck, as he closes his eyes and makes a movement as if he's pulling a cloth from the top of it, all the while without touching the deck. "Bibbity bobbity boo!" he says dramatically, unable to hold back a smile, and opens his eyes, sliding the top card of the deck with a hand and showing it off. "Ta da!"

Arthur moves slightly to look at it. The ace of spades. "That's not it," Arthur says, shaking his head slightly and looking at Merlin suspiciously.

"Isn't it?" Merlin asks, far too innocently, "my bad! Let's try that again. Expelliarmus!" he exclaims, before pulling another card. The eight of clubs. "Is this your card?"

"Not at all," Arthur replies.

"Then where did I put it?" Merlin lets out, a hand coming up to scratch the top of his head. "Leon, can you check your pockets?"

Leon blinks, confused for a moment, and then puts a hand in each jacket pockets, eyes widening as he pulls out a card from each, a smile growing on his face. "I have... the jack of swords and the one of clubs."

"None of those either," Arthur replies, looking at Merlin with amusement.

"That's not it? Damn," he says, looking lost. "Morgana, can you check under your ipad?"

Morgana lifts it up, and picks up a card that was hiding beneath it, turning it up to reveal the ace of diamonds. "It wasn't this one either, Merlin."

"I can't believe this is happening in my audition of all things," Merlin says, his shame as fake as it can be. "Where did that card go?" he asks, and starts patting himself down, pulling increasingly more impossible objects from his pockets and sleeves, as if he's a character in a cartoon. “No, no, no…” he pauses, a stuffed bear in his hands that he pulled from his breast pocket, and looks at Arthur. “Arthur, are you hiding it from me? You wouldn’t sabotage my performance just because it has cards, would you?”

“Merlin…”

“If that’s not it, then you don’t mind if I pat you down, do you?” Merlin comes up closer, eyes glinting.

Arthur lets out a loud sigh, and shifts slightly, opening his arms and planting his feet apart. “Go for it.”

Merlin comes impossibly close, eyes on Arthur’s as he moves his hands gently down his chest, checks his pockets, moving down his arms next. Arthur does his best to stay still with no reaction. “No patting down actual customers, Merlin,” he warns in a low tone.

Merlin looks up at him, his hands hovering on Arthur’s hips, and grins at him. “Wouldn’t dream of doing it to anyone else,” he replies, and before Arthur can think on that, he straightens up, pulling a card from Arthur’s trousers’ pocket. “Ah, I knew it! Tell me if this isn’t your card!” 

The joker. “It isn’t.”

“What!” Merlin lets out, and frowns at him. “Are you sure?” he turns to the audience again, “It wasn’t this card?”

“It isn’t,” Morgana says with a grin. Both her and Leon look far too amused.

“That’s it,” Merlin flicks the card at Arthur, hitting his arm, “I can’t have you here ruining my trick, get off my stage!”

“You can’t talk to me like that, Merlin,” Arthur says, crossing his arms again. 

“I just did. Off you go!”

Arthur chuckles but complies, stepping down from the stage and sitting down.

“Morgana, you’re up, come here,” Merlin calls her, gesturing for her to get closer.

As Morgana gets up and goes to stand with him, Merlin looks down at his deck. “Alright, I’m going to try this again,” he snaps his fingers, hand opening right after, and the revealed cards fly up to his hand. “Here we go.” He hands the deck to Morgana, “check if anything is missing.”

“All the cards are here,” she says, after looking through the deck.

“Pick Arthur’s card, and place it on the top of the deck.”

Morgana shows the card, and is careful to show everyone she’s doing as instructed, the card resting on the top of the pile, which she hands back to Merlin.

“Okay,” Merlin shifts his stance, simply holding the deck, “the next card I’m pulling out will the be one you’ve chosen.” His hand hovers again over the deck. “Alakazam!” he lets out, and picks out the card, showing the queen of spades. “Ta da!”

“You messed up again, Merlin,” Arthur calls out with a laugh.

“What?” Merlin turns the card to himself, and then glares at Morgana. “Not you too! I can’t believe you sided with him, go away! Leon, your turn!”

Leon quickly goes up to the stage, passing Morgana as she leaves. He rubs his hands together, looking at Merlin eagerly, who hands him the deck. 

“Come on, shuffle the deck, pick the card and put it back in, you know what to do.”

Leon does as told, showing them Arthur’s card and placing it in the middle of the deck. He shuffles it before handing it back to Merlin.

“Alright, here we go,” Merlin flips his hand on top of the deck, “Hocus Pocus!” he picks out a card. “Is this it?”

The four of diamonds. “Sorry, Merlin,” Leon says, chuckling.

“Back to your seat, you traitor,” Merlin demands, and shakes his head. “You’re all terrible friends! Let me show you how this is supposed to be done.” 

He waits until Leon is sitting down again before he continues. “So, you pick a card,” he spreads the deck and pulls out a random card, showing it to the audience without looking at it. Arthur stifles a laugh as he sees which one it is, Morgana placing a hand on her lips. Leon grins widely. “Then I place it in the deck,” Merlin says, doing as he explains,” I shuffle it and then— Abracadabra!” He holds out a card. “Is it the same card?”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, his voice warm, “that’s my card.”

Merlin turns the card, grinning widely as he looks at the king of hearts. “Not quite yet, it isn’t,” he says, turning the card to them again, snapping a finger against it. Now it reads ‘dollophead’. “There you go!”

Leon lets out a laugh, clapping a bit. Merlin gives them an exaggerated bow, and leaves the stage, his step light as he comes up to them. Arthur calls for a break, wondering why did he ever think that holding auditions was a good idea in the first place. 

He gets up, and Merlin’s right there beside him, holding out the card. “For you. An identifier. Or a reminder, whichever works best.”

Arthur looks at the card, quiet for a moment, before he slowly pulls out his wallet. He looks through its contents and pulls out a matching card, slightly more worn out, and shows it to Merlin. “I’ve already got one.”

Merlin’s eyes widen, looking between the card and Arthur’s face, a smile growing on his face. He touches the card lightly, and lets his fingers slide down to rest over Arthur’s hand. “You kept it.”

“I couldn’t just leave it with the deck, everyone would see it. It’s not my fault you ruined it,” Arthur says, without much heart.

“Of course,” Merlin grins, his hand squeezing Arthur’s for a moment, before he pulls it back. “Well, then I’m keeping this one to myself.”

Arthur puts his card back in his wallet. “It’s your card, you do what you want with it.”

“I get to have a reminder too,” Merlin says, still looking at him gently. Arthur doesn’t look away, and lets himself smile a bit. Just for a moment.

 

Of course Merlin gets the job. No one had thought otherwise, but even if that wasn't the mentality they had brought to the auditions, no one else did as well on the stage as Merlin. Morgana, Leon and Arthur get together for two minutes before making the announcement, and Merlin's smile is blinding.

Which means that after dinner everyone gathers at the club until Elyan and Percy finish their shifts, and then they head over to a bar where Arthur and his employees can actually drink without worrying about being seen doing so at their place of employment. 

The problem with working at a club, Arthur realizes a couple of hours later, as he slumps his weight a bit further on the table, elbows propped up on it, is that while he may regularly have a drink, it's usually the one drink that he nurtures through the night, and he doesn't actually go out much any place else where he can actually drink.

He's not that drunk, he tells himself, eyes on Merlin as he watches him laughs. He can't be because if he was, he'd have done something reckless by now.

"Arthur," Merlin's hands closes on his wrist, as he leans closer to him, his eyes bright, his smile wide. Arthur watches and watches and says nothing. He's not sober enough to stop if he starts talking. "Arthur, we should dance."

Arthur thinks of kissing him. He thinks of Merlin's laughter, of his pink mouth, of how he might taste on his tongue. He shakes his head a bit, the feeling heavy. Isn't he too old to get drunk?

"Your loss," Merlin says, poking his tongue out at him before he gets up, moving to join the others on the dance floor. Arthur watches as Gwaine grinds up to Merlin a bit, before ruffling his hair and pulling back, as he's not Merlin's goal. Merlin keeps going and stops only next to Gwen, who kisses Lancelot's cheek before she moves to dance with her friend, both laughing  the more ridiculous Merlin looks, waving his long limbs around, shaking his hips. Arthur can’t look away. 

"Why don't you go to him?" Morgana asks as she takes Merlin's seat on the table. She grabs Arthur's drink, pulling it towards her. Arthur lets her.

“It’s not the time,” Arthur says, “we’re not there yet.”

“You both clearly want it,” Morgana says, “he’s not hiding anything from you.”

“Not anymore, you mean,” Arthur finally looks at her.

Morgana hits his arm. “You’re still on about that? Arthur!”

“I’m fine with Merlin,” Arthur says, rubbing his arm lightly, his eyes going to his bubbling, dancing form again. “I like him. I really like Merlin, Morgana. There’s something about Merlin, isn’t there? I feel, I feel like I’ve always known him. Even when he lies.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” Arthur turns to her again, “Do you think people are destined to meet? I don’t believe in that. But Merlin makes sense like that. He makes sense.I should go tell him that.”

Morgana smiles and pats his cheek. “Just go dance with him, Arthur. I want you to be happy.”

“Not now,” he says again. “I need to get sober.”

“I thought the point of tonight was to drink,” says a new voice and Arthur looks up to see Leon, who’s hair is a mess as he smiles at them, his cheeks flushed under his beard. “At least according to Gwaine.”

“Well, he has a point,” Morgana drinks again from Arthur’s glass, and gets up. “Leon? You better not be tired yet.”

“No,” he says eagerly, smiling wide as he moves to her side, Arthur forgotten as he lead her to the others.

Arthur watches them go and join the others, his eyes shifting from them to Merlin’s form, considering. Merlin seems to notice it before Arthur comes to any decision, and comes back to his side, sitting down. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Why aren’t you?” Arthur replies, still looking at him.

“Don’t want you to be alone,” Merlin says, looking back at him, leaning in. “Your turn.”

“Hmm?” Arthur blinks slowly, his eyes drifting down to Merlin’s mouth. He wants.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Merlin asks again, leaning even closer so Arthur can hear him better. Arthur thinks of how soft his lips must be.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Arthur replies, “not like this.”

“Drunk?” Merlin grins. He has a beautiful smile.

Arthur chuckles, but shakes his head, “No, club dancing.”

“Ah,” Merlin nods, “you’re more of a ballroom dancer, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, “had lessons. With Morgana. But not for this.”

“No one gets lessons for club dancing. Come on, up you go” he says, a grin stretching his lips.

Arthur isn’t drunk enough to reach over to kiss him, but he feels like he burns with the need. Merlin’s breath itch, and Arthur realizes he has reached over with his hand instead, his fingertips touching the corner of Merlin’s mouth. His eyes snap up to Merlin’s, who’s flushed, more than he was a moment ago, eyes wide, but he’s not pulling back. Arthur’s gaze go back to Merlin’s mouth, his fingers following the curve of his bottom lip. He feels Merlin’s shuddered breath against his fingertips, and he has the urge to press his fingers in Merlin’s open, inviting mouth. Merlin lets out a small pant, tongue almost darting out, and Arthur knows, he knows Merlin would let him do it. Merlin wants it too. He cups his jaw instead, his thumb resting against the corner of Merlin’s mouth.

“Arthur,” Merlin lets out, his voice raspy, face tilting slightly into Arthur’s hold.

“I want,” Arthur says, and his voice has gone hoarse as well, scratching at his throat. 

“Yes.” Merlin nods slightly against his palm, when Arthur doesn’t continue.

“You’re a wonder,” Arthur says, and slowly pulls his hand back, his lungs tightening as he watches Merlin chase after the touch. He wants to touch Merlin’s face again, but he’s gone too far already, he knows this. He had something to tell him, he remembers. “You make sense.”

“Arthur,” Merlin says more softly, his voice almost gone under the music playing, and he places his hand over Arthur’s. He can’t make himself pull back.

“I’m drunk,” Arthur explains, looking at him again. “So are you.”

Merlin nods, a small frown appearing on his face.

“I’m not doing this with you,” he adds. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Merlin squeezes his hand for a moment, and then pulls back. “One more drink, and then I drag your ass to the dance floor?”

Arthur nods and gets up, losing his balance for a moment as he does it. Merlin’s quick to come up to his side and grab his elbow, the other hand on his lower back. Arthur turns his face slightly, pressing his nose into Merlin’s hair, growling low his displeasure. Merlin smells like smoke and cigars, not the green he remembers.

“Arthur, you can’t—” Merlin let’s out, voice wavering as Arthur nuzzles his nose a bit against the side of his head, trying to find the right scent. 

“Yeah,” Arthur pulls back, “Sorry. You smell good. Not now, but. Usually.” he pauses, and leans further away. “I should drink some water.”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, leading him to the bar. “That’s a good idea.”

It’s his first good idea of the night, Arthur thinks. He’s going to regret a lot of things in the morning, and still he can’t make himself look away from Merlin’s face. He needs to sober up fast or drink enough to forget, and he’s not sure which is the better option.


	25. The Houses of Healing

Arthur comes to the decision that the best he can do is try to move past what happened that night. Not that anything had really happened, he’s quick to remind himself, but what he did, what Merlin had let him do, it’s not something he's not ready to deal with it. No matter how soft Merlin's lips had been under his touch.

He doesn't like to just ignore things, but what’s growing between Merlin and him is something he doesn't know how else to treat at the moment. He knows it's there, he knows they both want it, and god damn it now Merlin has to know it too, but he's not ready to take that step. How did he go from convincing others to convincing himself of it? It doesn't matter how much he wants it, he knows he's not ready. They're not there yet, and jumping the gun would only ruin things later on. He just hopes no one else noticed what happened, because he really doesn't want to keep arguing about this point with their friends.

Merlin grins at him as Arthur walks into Gaius' shop, and doesn't seem to act any different than usual. At least he seems to get it.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have work to do?" Merlin asks, moving around the counter.

"Is that anyway to treat a customer, Merlin?" he replies, stopping next to him.

"Are you going to buy anything?" Merlin asks, leaning back a bit, elbows propped up on the counter behind him.

"No," Arthur answers, moving to stand next to him, his lower back pressing a bit against the wall of the counter.

"Not even something for a hangover?"

"I'm not hungover, Merlin."

"Then you're not really a customer, are you?" 

"Then I’m definitely not buying anything," Arthur says, "not with this lousy service."

"Prat," Merlin chuckles. He glances away, but his eyes come back to Arthur when he asks, "What are you doing here then? You never visit me at work."

Arthur looks down for a moment. "About last night..."

"Oh. Hum, yeah," Merlin scratches the side of his head, "you were right."

Arthur just looks at him, surprised.

"You wouldn't have done that sober," Merlin says, "so it can't count for anything."

Arthur gives him a long look, feeling incredibly fond of him in that moment. And then his eyes, despite himself, fall to Merlin's lips. He still wants to, he still thinks of crowding Merlin against the counter and pressing their mouths together, but doesn't know if he wants the consequences of those actions just yet. Doesn't mean he stops himself from wondering what it would be like.

"Sometimes, Merlin," Arthur says instead, looking up at him again. "You almost sound wise."

"Well, sometimes you don't sound like an ass," Merlin replies.

"Well, if that isn't the closest to a compliment I've heard from you," Arthur hums.

"To you, maybe, I compliment a lot of people, actually," Merlin replies.

"Why do I—" Arthur stops, as someone walks into the shop.

Merlin goes to the old lady, all smiles and hand movements as he helps her with whatever she needs, and Arthur tunes out what they're saying in favor of watching Merlin move around. There's something ridiculously attractive about the way Merlin moves. Well, maybe not so much as attractive as endearing, but it makes Arthur feel warm and fuzzy in any case, and it brings his mind back to the previous night, the way Merlin had so clumsily danced around without a care. 

"So Merlin," he says, once the old woman leaves, and Merlin returns to his side, "have you got a show ready yet for Monday?"

"Kind of," Merlin says, "a bit. Not much. It's— well, I only got the part yesterday, and we spent the night drinking so I really don't have much planned."

"Then you wouldn't know what to do if I changed your spot to one hour."

Merlin's eyes snap to Arthur's. "You'd do that? One hour of magic?"

"Hm, you're right, that can't be good for business, nevermind," Arthur nods.

"No, no! Arthur," Merlin smiles widely, shifting to be in front of him, a hand resting on Arthur's elbow.

“It’s too much, I know,” Arthur says, a smile tugging on his lips despite himself.

“You were doing so well for once, I knew it couldn’t last,” Merlin sighs.

Arthur holds back a smile, his hand itching to move the few inches it needs to rest on Merlin's hip. "Could you handle it? One hour. Dragoon only ever had half that time."

"I think I could, yeah," Merlin says, looking back at him. He's close, and Arthur doesn't feel trapped at all, even as he stands between him and the counter. If Merlin gave a small step, their feet would be touching.

"Plan a show for it," Arthur says, "if you come up with something solid by tonight, I'll give you the time for it."

"Tonight?"

"The show's in two days, Merlin, if you do this you have to be ready," Arthur replies.

Merlin nods, stepping back a bit, face pensive, frowning slightly as he looks to the side, thinking. 

"And if you don't," Arthur says, "there's always next week. Well," he adds, because Merlin's gaze turns warm and bright, as if Arthur had done something incredible, and Arthur can’t stand to see it for too long,"if you last until next week, god knows you're more than capable of messing it up."

"No, you don't really think that," Merlin says, grinning, "you think I can do it."

"I don't have much hope for you," Arthur replies.

"Then why are you offering to double my time on the stage?"

"Because," Arthur says, "it's double the time I don't have to put up with your company."

"You like my company," Merlin is a bit closer again.

"Do I?"

"Yeah," Merlin says, and his free hand rests on the counter, right next to Arthur's side, the other still on his arm. "Why else would you be here?"

"Haven't you asked that already?" Arthur tilts his face a little, leaning closer.

"You haven't answered."

"Well, it's certainly not because of your company."

"Hmm," Merlin grins, "so if it's not for my company, nor to buy anything..."

"Merlin," Arthur lets out in warning, but he's smiling a bit too.

"And I've heard from very reliable sources that I smell great," Merlin adds, his grin stretching.

"Are those sources really all that reliable?" Arthur asks, his cheeks heating up.

"I don't know, you tell me."

Arthur looks up to Merlin's eyes, who's looking right back at him, eyes bright, and he's so close Arthur can in fact, actually smell him. Arthur doesn't know which way it's best to answer that, and Merlin seems fine with waiting for him to speak while not breaking their eye contact.

"Merlin, I'm paying you to work, not to flirt with your boyfriend," Gaius voice comes up, and the both of them turn quickly to look at him, Merlin jumping back to give Arthur some space.

"Gaius! Arthur's just... he's not actually..." Merlin lets out, his hand gestures wide.

"Staying," Arthur finishes the sentence, "I just came over to say hello, I won't bother you at work."

Gaius, bag in hand filled with plants, still by the door, just raises an eyebrow at them. 

"Hum, yes, right," Merlin nods, "so, hi?"

Arthur lets out an amused sigh, "I'll talk to you later, Merlin."

"Tonight?" Merlin is still nodding.

"Tonight," Arthur closes a hand on Merlin's wrist for a moment, before quickly moving to the door. "It was good to see you, Gaius," he says as he steps outside.

There's a moment where he looks back, and he catches Merlin staring at him, and there's a long pause where they both acknowledge the fact this is a thing they're apparently still doing, before Arthur turns around and leaves in long strides, walking quickly down the street back to his club. 

He doesn't want to think much about the reason they're not denying they're together to Gaius and his father, because he knows what's in it for him. If he tells his father they broke up, it wouldn't help at all if one day he does get to date Merlin. Uther will only see that they've failed once already and won't ever think Merlin will last. And Arthur wants, one day, for them to last. Just not today.

Although, why not? They might have just agreed to ignore what had happened the night before, and Arthur might have even convinced himself that he's not ready for any of that stuff yet, but isn't he? He's not so sure of why he's holding back. Merlin's been nothing but honest and open to him lately, and Arthur believes him. He's counting on not having another secret sprang on him, and he trusts Merlin. So what's actually stopping him from doing something about the way he feels?

Arthur stops walking, turning around to look at the way back into the shop. He likes Merlin, and Merlin returns his feelings, so apart from Gaius being right there, what’s really stopping him from going back into the shop and telling him right now? He doesn’t know anymore.

 

"So? What did you think?" Merlin sits down next to Arthur, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright with excitement, propping his elbows on the table.

Arthur holds back a smile, and shrugs nonchalantly. "It was bearable."

Merlin lets out a laugh. "That's the highest compliment you've given the show yet."

"That is also true," Arthur nods.

"One bearable hour." Merlin grins at him, obviously in a good mood. Arthur basks in it, leaning a little closer.

In truth, it was more than bearable. Merlin had looked good on stage, happy and relaxed as he did his magic, tongue as loose as usual as he chatted away. There are people who look their best when still, but Merlin is beautiful in motion. The only thing missing from how Merlin usually acts is that he didn't stumble at all or knock down anything on accident. And it wasn't just about how good Merlin had looked, but the show itself had been a wonder, not that Arthur is actually going to say that out loud. Everything had seemed both out of this world and yet still approachable, much like Merlin himself. He doesn't know if it's because it's Merlin. If it's the actual real magic or the quality of the performance, but it's most likely a mixture of the three.

"Excuse me?" They turn to see a woman around their age, with a pretty face and a hesitant look, "Are you Emrys?"

"Hm, yeah," Merlin nods, smiling. "You saw the show?"

She nods quickly, "I did! It was incredible." She glances down, tucking some of her brown hair behind her ear and looks at Merlin shyly, "You were incredible."

Merlin blushes a bit, ducking his head. "Thanks. I'll be here again next week."

"You will? I'll... I'll come as well," she smiles, "I'm Cara, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Merlin smiles at her.  "Will you be here next Monday?"

She smiles, her cheeks turning as red as her lips, "Yes. I'll see you then?"

He nods. "Yeah!"

"Alright then," she glances down, and then up at Merlin again. "hm, bye."

They watch her go back to her table, and Arthur looks at Merlin, eyebrows high on his forehead. "Well."

"Some people actually like the show and can tell me so," Merlin says, looking at him.

"Merlin, she was obviously interested in you," Arthur says, amused, and adds without much feeling, "no idea why."

"Don't you?" Merlin replies, just as amused.

Arthur locks eyes with him. "Can’t think of a reason."

"But you rarely meet those expectations, so that's not surprising," Merlin says, giving him a small shrug. He pauses, and then asks, "I'll be here next week, right?"

"I haven't fired you yet," Arthur says.

"Actually, you have," Merlin comments, "when I said you looked like a toad."

"Alright, then I haven't fired you again," Arthur says, "even if you did tell me that again some days ago."

Merlin hums, grinning, "You're very generous."

"Yes, and you're very dumb, aren't you, Merlin?"

"What did I do this time?" Merlin replies, puffing out.

"With a name like Merlin, now you go for  _ Emrys _ ? As if Dragoon wasn't bad enough already."

"Hey, I thought hard about the name," Merlin replies, nudging him a bit.

"Did you now? No wonder."

"No, I did!" Merlin says, sitting straighter, "I looked up names of Arthurian Merlin, and it's one of his possible last names. And also, it's close enough to my own last name, Emmerson, so I went with your stupid theme at the club!"

Arthur looks at him, surprised. "You really did think about this."

"Of course I did! Prat," Merlin lets out.

The girl from before passes by their table again, as she leaves the club, eyes only for Merlin as she gives him a small wave before rushing out. Merlin smiles back at her, and turns to Arthur looking pleased.

"Told you she had a crush on you," Arthur says, raising his eyebrows.

"What, now it's a crush?" Merlin looks away embarrassed, "you're making a big deal out of it."

"Just pointing it out," Arthur says with a shrug.

"So it doesn't bother you?" Merlin asks, and his face twists a bit with regret right after.

"It doesn't," Arthur replies with honesty, and leans a bit closer. "Should it?"

Merlin looks hesitant for a second, and seems to make up his mind, his look more serious than the conversation required so far, "No. I don't just get interested in people willy nilly. You know that's not how it works for me."

"Yes," Arthur says, his hand close to Merlin's on the table now. "I know.”

Merlin looks down at their hands, and then back up at Arthur. "So it doesn't matter."

"It wouldn't matter anyway," Arthur says, wishing he kept his mouth shut. He's pushing too close to territory they don't actually talk about, and while he's not so sure why aren't they moving into a relationship, it doesn't mean he's ready right at his moment to talk about it. "Would it?"

"Arthur," Merlin's the one who reaches over, his fingers touching Arthur's wrist lightly, before his hands covers it.

Arthur looks down at where they touch, considering shifting his arm so Merlin's hand is on Arthur's. He doesn't do that, but he also doesn't pull back. "Yes, Merlin?"

"You're a prat," Merlin says, with a quick smile, and pulls his hand back. Arthur misses the touch immediately, and leaves his hand right where it is.

"I haven't heard that one before," Arthur comments, "You really want me to fire you, don't you?"

"You wouldn't," Merlin says, a smile showing up again, and staying this time, "everyone wants me around."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Arthur replies, with a small shrug.

"Yeah, but I am," Merlin says, his hand touching Arthur's lightly again for a moment, and it feels like Merlin said more than reply to his comment. It feels like a different message altogether, and one that warms him. 

It isn't exactly easy to be around Merlin after that night, the space around them heavy with the knowledge they both know what they want without doing anything about it, and this feels like a confirmation and an assurance all wrapped up together in a silly conversation about Merlin's show.

He turns his hand to close his fingers around Merlin's for a moment and says, "You should be."

Merlin's blinding smile in reply makes it all worth it.


	26. Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities

Everything seems to find its place after that first show, and he realizes a lot has changed for the better ever since Merlin came forward about Dragoon. He enjoys spending time with Merlin's friends at the football field. He's getting close to Lancelot with their weekly lunches with Guinevere, and Merlin himself feels more relaxed, more at ease around Arthur. They're growing into something, but he's doing so with all the others too, in different ways. 

All but one person.

"Uther says he'll be back this weekend," Morgana says, a glass of wine in her hand balanced even as she sits down on the couch, pulling a leg up sideways on it. "He and Catrina, of course."

They're trying, and in the most part, its working. Things can be a bit stilled, and Morgana seems to think that putting the issue behind them is what they need. Arthur doesn't know how to bring it back up, doesn't know what to say when most of the fight has left him, and she's trying. They just had dinner in her flat on her invitation, but things don't feel the same between them, and not for the better. They’re not bad, but they’re not right either, and he doesn’t know how to change that.

"Where were they this time?" Arthur asks, turning toward her. Their father's and Catrina's honeymoon turned out to be some very odd interrail, where they don't stop for more than two days in each place, and Arthur has lost count of their itinerary.

"Italy, I think. They had just come from of those natural hot springs, with therapeutic mud," she shudders slightly. "Arthur, I heard things about what they did there than I should not have to bear with."

"And that's why I only call him about work these days," Arthur says. Not that he talks to his father all that often, the man is on his honeymoon after all, but he's been checking the theater occasionally on his father's request, and to answer the rare distress calls from his assistant. The fact Arthur's been the one they go to for the issues would have made him happy a while ago, but these weeks have been busy enough with his own personal issues for him to think much of the subject. It's not anything new, in any case, it happens sometimes too with his father around, as everyone knows one day he and Morgana will be there more permanently, once their father retires.

"Yes, but work is all you ever talk about with him anyway," Morgana comments, and takes a sip of her wine.

"And you talk to him about other issues?"

"Well," Morgana lifts her chin, "sometimes."

"So not at all," Arthur nods.

"Sometimes he asks me about you," Morgana says.

"Really? And what do you say?"

"That I don't understand why he has any hope of you growing a brain."

"Hilarious," Arthur replies, "and does he tell you that he keeps complaining to me about how obnoxious you are?"

"As if you aren’t also," Morgana laughs, "and him!"

"You've got to get it from somewhere," Arthur says, "and you're older than me, so if I got it from someone, it’s you."

"You shouldn't lie, Arthur, it doesn't look good on you," Morgana says, with an air of superiority that is more playful than real.

"And hypocrisy suits you perfectly, why am I not surprised," Arthur replies, just as playfully, but there's an edge to it that he can't quite hide, and she notices, her smirk diminishing a little.

She takes a sip from her wine, the mood now tense, and Arthur doesn't know what to say. He's not going to apologise, especially to her.

"Well, but what doesn't look good on me?" Morgana says at last as she puts down the glass again. "I've yet to find it."

"How about humility?"

"Now, brother, it seems hypocrisy suits you just as well," Morgana says amused, and it's like nothing had happened just now. Well, at least she's not denying it, that's a step. Even if it's done just to turn the tables on him.

He makes a gesture with his hand, handing her the victory of this turn simply because he's about to laugh about it. "Alright, so, is that really what you talk about with father? Me and work?"

"What else is there to talk about?"

"He just got married," Arthur says, "I'm sure he has a lot going on that he can share."

"And do you really think I want to listen to it?"

"It can't be all that bad—"

"You've seen them together, Arthur, it's disgusting," Morgana dismisses what he's saying quickly. 

"They're..." Arthur draws it out, trying to come up with a decent enough description, "...in love. It's... well, it's good for him."

"It'd be better for us all if they could be that happy only behind closed doors," Morgana says, "We both could do without seeing our father use tongue."

Arthur always found it interesting that Morgana only actually calls Uther their father when she means to insult him. But linguistics aside, he agrees. "I certainly did not need that, yes. He's… different when he's in love than what I had expected."

"He is, isn't he?" Morgana jumps on it quickly, leaning forward, "I know he wasn't like that with either of our mothers. It's odd how he's acting, isn't it?"

There's something about her enthusiasm that's making Arthur suspicious, "Where are you going with this?"

"Nothing really," Morgana says, "not yet. It just doesn't sit right."

"You're just not looking forward to another half brother," Arthur says, and then blanches at the thought.

"Arthur, don't be disgusting," Morgana frowns, swatting at his arm, "he's far too old— isn't he? Arthur," she lets out his name, with an odd combination of repulse and apprehension.

"He wouldn't. Morgana," Arthur says quickly, turning to her, "she's not that young."

"She's not that old either," Morgana says, "she could do it, if they wanted."

"But they don't," Arthur says, "they can't."

"It's not like he needs a child from every woman he likes," Morgana says, "a set of three in three?"

"Morgana!" Arthur lets out in shock.

"And it's too soon," Morgana says, "they just got married. They only basically just met, but my point—" she pauses, eyes widening, "Arthur," she grabs his wrist tightly.

"What?" Arthur looks at her.

"What if they got married  _ because _ she's pregnant? It would explain why it happened so fast."

"No, he wouldn't... right?"

"Arthur, don't tell me you actually believe they've waited until marriage, because let me tell you—"

"No, I know that," Arthur says, and makes a disgusted face, shaking his head, "I wish I didn't, and I wish I didn't have to think about that now, but they were always all over each other. I mean that father wouldn't get her pregnant when—"

"They weren't married?" Morgana raises her eyebrows, and gestures to herself up and down with a hand.

"Alright, I see your point," Arthur concedes, "he doesn't have the best track record for safe sex— oh god, Morgana why are we even discussing this? I don't want to talk about our father's sex habits."

"Because we might be having a new sibling, Arthur!"

"I honestly doubt that, Morgana," Arthur says, shaking his head.

"He couldn't marry my mother because he was married to yours. And well, she was married too," Morgana says, "so how do you know that's not something he does to make his children legit? It explains why this is happening so fast, you know it does."

"He would have told us," Arthur says, "if he was having a new kid, he would tell us."

"Or maybe it's recent enough he can get away with the excuse of a premature birth," Morgana says.

"No, that can't be it, he told us he was getting married months ago," Arthur says, turning to her, "if Catrina was pregnant then and they knew it, we would know by now. We'd have seen her belly at the wedding."

"Alright, that's true," Morgana concedes, and then quickly points a finger at him, "but we didn't know how soon it'd be. He could have had a longer engagement, and when they picked a day for the wedding it was too close to the date. I bet they rescheduled it as soon as they found out she was pregnant. One or two weeks later they get married, they let us know they're having a baby in a month, and it will seem she got pregnant on their honeymoon. The baby is born slightly ahead of what we'd think was its time, and that's normal enough for no one to question it."

"Except you," Arthur says, crossing his arms.

"Except us," Morgana corrects him, a hand on her knee as she leans forward. "Arthur, it's not that far fetched, given his history."

"It wouldn't be ten or twenty years ago," Arthur agrees, "but now? The man is in his sixties, Morgana, the next baby he holds should be his grandchild, not his own son."

"Or daughter."

"Or daughter— this isn't a question of semantics, Morgana!" Arthur lets out, and then shakes his head. "Why would he not use a condom— Morgana," Arthur says in a pained tone, making a face, "I don't want to talk about our father's sex life. Why are we doing this?"

"Arthur, he's starting a new family with her," Morgana says.

"No, he's not," Arthur says, with a shake of his head, "he increased our family when he got married, and if—  _ if _ she's pregnant, then it will be another addition to  _ our _ family."

"Arthur," Morgana says, with a slight tilt to her head, her tone turning condescending.

"This isn't us against them, so you shouldn't try to pit us against each other," Arthur says, "that's not who father is. He didn't pick you over me back then."

"He picked you over me," Morgana says, pointing it out as an argument, and not as a sore spot between the two of them, and Arthur doesn't think she's hiding it. She's very clear to their father on how she feels about it, "for almost a decade."

"Your mother was married, Morgana," Arthur says, his tone softer. "You had parents."

"I know," Morgana, her tone small like it usually turns when they talk about her time before she joined their family.

"He's not replacing us," Arthur says, and moves a bit closer. "Do you think he is? Is that why you're so against it?"

"No, of course not," Morgana says quickly, "it's just odd how it all happened so fast. And he's acting so different."

Arthur shrugs, not that worried. "We've never seen him in love before."

"That's true, yes..."

"And as far as we know, he's not very rational when he's interested in a woman," Arthur says, and gives her a look, "He did get your mother pregnant while they were both married to different people."

"You're right," Morgana says, with a small nod, "maybe this is normal for him, and we just didn't know."

"Exactly," Arthur says, "so can we please stop about what father does in bed? I don't take any pleasure in it and you keep bringing it up."

"How do you know it's in bed?"

"Morgana!" Arthur lets out.

"And we haven't even broached the subject of Agravaine and how he fits into all of this," she says with a smirk.

"Alright, we're definitely done with this," Arthur says, getting up, "I'm not going to talk about that."

"You're leaving? Arthur," Morgana motions to start getting up.

"If we're not done with this subject, yes," Arthur says, "if we are, then I'm getting the wine bottle to get us refilled."

Morgana smiles, leaning back on the couch. "The second option, then."

 

Arthur has just gotten home from practice on Thursday when his phone starts ringing. He sighs, dropping down his sports bag and reaches for the pocket where his phone keeps vibrating, and pulls it out only to see with some surprise Merlin's name flashing on the screen.

"What do you want, Merlin?" Arthur asks in a breath, making his way further into the flat.

"Can I borrow your car tomorrow?" Merlin asks, and Arthur has to pause in the hallway.

"What? What happened to yours?"

"I have to go out of town," Merlin says, and his voice is odd, as if he's absent from the conversation, "but my car can't handle the trip. I'd take forever, and it should take two days as it is."

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, thinking of the consequences of losing his car for a couple of days. And of placing it into Merlin's hand, who definitely doesn't sound like he's fine.

"Have you eaten already?"

"What?"

"Come over for dinner and we'll talk."

"I... are you sure?"

"You have one hour to be here," Arthur says.

"Yeah, okay, I-- yeah. Thanks," Merlin stumbles a bit, his voice sounding more like himself in his confusion.

"I'll see you then," Arthur says and hangs up before Merlin can reply.

He moves to his bedroom, sitting down on his bed in a slump, and leans down to untie his football shoes. Maybe he should have said two hours, but he can take a bath and make dinner in that window of time, he's sure of it.

When the bell rings, Arthur is two minutes away from taking the dish out of the oven, and he comes to the door, opening it to reveal Merlin, who looks like he hasn't found his step yet. Arthur lets his him, closing the door after him.

"Just a bit more before the food is ready," he says, looking at Merlin up and down with a frown. "What's the matter with you?"

Merlin takes off his jacket, eyes down as he takes his time. "Have you seen the news lately?"

"Sure," Arthur says, not understanding why would he ask that. He motions for where Merlin can hang his jacket, not that he doesn't know where the coat hanger is already, but Merlin has a habit of throwing it over the closets surface if Arthur doesn't make a point of it.

Merlin hangs it without a fuss this time, and when Arthur pats his arm, he follows him into the kitchen. "There was a fire, up north, at the Chopwell woods."

"Yeah," Arthur frowns, trying to recall what he had heard about it, "they're trying to rebuild the old forest life and someone tried to set it on fire."

"Someone did," Merlin says, crossing his arms a bit. "We saw the fire on the telly."

Arthur's eyes widen, turning to him. "Do you know someone who was there? It's been contained, hasn't it?"

"It has," Merlin nods, "and... I'm not sure." he pauses, looking down for a moment before he locks eyes with Arthur's. "Gaius recognized one of the firemen. He said... he said the man was my father."

"Merlin," Arthur lets out, shocked, a hand moving forward to rest on Merlin's arm.

"He seemed sure of it," Merlin says, "and I thought... maybe it's stupid," he says, with a small shrug, not meeting Arthur's eye anymore, "it might be nothing. My father left before I was even born, and he never came back, why should I go to him? I don't have to."

"It's not stupid," Arthur says, and his free hand, without his consent, moves to rest on the side of Merlin's neck, making him look at Arthur once more. "You should find out. You deserve a chance to know him, to get answers. I..." it's Arthur's turn to look down, "I never met my mother, she died giving birth to me. I'd give anything for a chance to speak to her."

Merlin's hand comes up, touching Arthur's cheek with feather like pressure before he drops it again. "So you think I should do it?"

"I do," Arthur says, thumb stroking lightly the skin right at the corner of Merlin's jaw, before he draws away, stepping back. "Get the food on the table while I fetch my laptop, Merlin."

Two minutes later, Merlin is cutting out the meat and placing it in their plates, as Arthur inputs the addresses on google maps. He glances down at the plate Merlin places in front of him as he sits down by his side, and then Arthur leans away again, slouching a bit towards the laptop. "It's an almost six hour drive to Chopwell Woods," he says, eyes going up for a moment to Merlin and then back to the map. "If we leave early tomorrow, we can do 3 hours, pause for while, and then get back on the road and arrive in time for lunch."

"What?" Merlin turns to him, putting down his fork. "You're coming with me?"

"Unless you want to go alone," Arthur looks up from the laptop at him. "Do you?"

"I... no," Merlin says, his eyes softening, and he looks more like himself then. "You sure you want to go?"

"Such a long trip on your own is too tiring," Arthur says, "you'd probably crash my car, so yes, I'm going."

Merlin smiles, and goes back to eating. "Thanks."

"We're only staying one night," Arthur says, opening a new tab to google a place to stay, "we can push it to two if we have to, but neither of us should skip that much work. And you need to be back Monday evening at the club."

"Yeah, that... that should be enough," Merlin says, more hesitant again.

Arthur looks at him. "It should. You can't stop your life for a man who walked out of it, Merlin. You're giving him a chance, but if it's not enough for you, he can come over, can't he? It's more than time he does."

Merlin nods, and goes back to eating, obviously thinking. They eat in silence for a while, Arthur's eyes on the screen again as he looks up hotels to stay at.

"We should leave at 6, " Arthur says as they get up, to take the dishes to the kitchen.

Merlin makes a very displeased face. "From here? Then I have to get up way too early  so I can come over on time. Can't we leave at 10, when actual human beings are awake?"

"Then we only arrive during the afternoon, Merlin," Arthur says, "most of the day will be wasted. We leave at six and get just in time for lunch, and then have the rest of the day to search for your father."

Merlin runs a hand through his hair, looking exhausted just from thinking about it.

"Or we could leave tonight," Arthur says, but he doesn't really consider it an option. He's tired after practice, and has been longing for his bed, not to get on the road. "We'd have the whole day to look for him, but I'd rather if we didn't fall asleep on the road."

"I'll fall asleep tomorrow," Merlin replies, handing Arthur his plate to put it under water on the sink. "You'll be waking at what, five, five and half? I'll be getting up at four!" he pauses, and turns to him. "Unless we meet at my place, and you come pick me up, then you can wake at four if you want to--"

"Don't be an idiot, Merlin," Arthur replies, putting the dishes in the washing machine, "I'm not waking up at four, it's the middle of the night."

"And I am?" Merlin frowns at him.

"That or stay over," Arthur says. He pauses to think of that option, "I have an extra bedroom. You can go pack a bag and come back. We both wake up at five and leave here without any delay from picking you up."

Merlin looks at him, a bit wide eyed. "Yeah, that could work."

Arthur grabs a towel, drying his hands as he turns to him. "Alright. Off you go, then. Don't take too long, we should go to bed early."

"Yeah, alright," Merlin nods, and steps out of the kitchen, "I'll be back in an hour?"

"The sooner the better," Arthur says, going after him to the front hall. He opens the door for him as Merlin puts on his jacket, eyes sparkling as they look at Arthur before he leaves, nothing like he had been when he had first stepped in. Arthur waits until Merlin is on the lift to close the door again, feeling like he's doing the right thing.


	27. Homeward Bound

The next morning, Merlin is grinning far too much for someone who had spent the entire time before bed complaining about how early they had to wake up. Arthur keeps glancing at him from the driver’s seat as he takes them out of the city, but it’s only around half an hour later that Merlin finally shares what’s been amusing him so much.

“So,” Merlin says with a grin, giving him a sly look, as he leans back in his seat, “I was surprised yesterday when I got to the room and saw something on the bed…”

“Was it the pillows?” Arthur replies, “you know those do tend to be there—”

“Of course not!”

“Of course they do,” Arthur says, not holding back a smirk, “this may come as a surprise to you, but normal people do use them for sleeping more comfortably.”

“I know that!” Merlin lets out, punching his left arm lightly, “You’re such a prat. I found a  _ sword _ in the bed! An actual, real looking, very big and heavy sword!”

“Oh,” Arthur lets out, as he tries to think back when he had last used it, and why he hadn’t remembered to take the sword out of the guest room. “Tell me you didn’t get your greasy hands all over it.”

“My hands aren’t—”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, quickly glancing at him, “the natural grease of the skin corrodes the metal of the sword. Did you touch it?”

“A bit?” Merlin winces slightly, “I might have waved it around a bit. It’s heavier than it looks.”

Arthur sighs, trying not to think of how much time will have passed between when Merlin decided to play around with the sword to when he gets home again so he can clean it up. It probably won’t matter much, but he’s as careful with it as he can get. “You better have put it away properly.”

“I think so, don’t— wait, that’s not the point!” Merlin turns to him, “Why do you have a sword lying around your home?”

Arthur taps his fingers a bit on the steering wheel as he considers his answer. “If you laugh at all, Merlin, I will stop the car and leave you to walk the rest of the way.”

“But we just left London now.”

“Precisely.” Arthur points a finger at Merlin’s face.

“Won’t laugh, alright.” he pauses, and then grins “... but it’s something funny, isn’t it?”

“Merlin.”

“Yes, shut up, got it,” Merlin is still grinning, looking at him eagerly.

Arthur takes a hand from the wheel, rubbing his cheek lightly before he gets it back down again. “Alright, so I’ve always been into sports. When we were young, Father put me and Morgana through fencing.”

“ _ Fencing?”  _ Merlin interrupts, far too gleeful.

Arthur glares at him, and Merlin shuts his mouth, unable to hold back a smile.

“It’s where we met Leon,” Arthur says, “it was only in middle school that we became classmates too. By high school we were both doing boxing too, and then we,” Arthur falters, eyes on the road. He takes a deep breath before he finishes the sentence, “we went to a medieval fair.”

“ _ Arthur _ ,” Merlin lets out in a breath, sounding as if Christmas had come early.

“And we found a medieval sword fighting school,” Arthur says, still not looking at Merlin, “and Leon and I signed up for it. And got lessons. And…”

“And?”

Arthur closes his eyes for a moment, “And we participated in tournaments. Did some re enactments at fairs.”

“Arthur, are you a knight?” Merlin asks, voice full of excitement and laughter he’s clearly holding back, “Wait, just with swords? Or the whole riding on a horse with a giant stick—”

“Jousting, Merlin,” Arthur corrects him, and pauses before he actually answers. “Yes, that too. It’s why I learnt how to ride a horse.”

“ _ Sir Arthur _ ,” Merlin says, delighted. “Or, no— were you King Arthur? Tell me that happened.”

“Of course not,” Arthur says, making himself scoff, “I was barely twenty, Merlin, kings are always older.” 

“But you wanted it, didn’t you?”

“ _ No _ .” Another pause. “I got to be a prince one time anyway.”

“A  _ prince _ ! God, I bet you made an extraordinary prince,” Merlin says, grinning, “pompous, arrogant, snobbish… you must have rocked those auditions.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says with a frown.

“And,” Merlin seems to hesitate for a moment, his voice tender, “you could look the part too.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says again, softer this time.

“I mean,” Merlin adds, his voice a little strained, “princes used to be round as balls, from sitting on their throne all day and eating far more than they needed while the peasants starved.”

“I am  _ not _ fat!” Arthur lets out, letting the moment slide as Merlin clearly wants.

“So I’ve heard,” Merlin says, and then quickly, before Arthur can keep protesting about that. “So what was the sword doing in the bed?”

“Leon and I spar once in awhile,” Arthur says, “we had a session last week and I got home too tired to put away the sword properly, so I figured the bed I didn’t use would do.”

“Sir Arthur,” Merlin says again, and Arthur glances quickly to his left to see his smile. “Why didn’t I hear about this before?”

“It didn’t come up,” Arthur says, and then reluctantly adds, “and I’ve made Morgana promise to not tell everyone we meet about it.”

“Why not?” Merlin turns to him, his hands coming up, “This is incredible—”

“As if you’re not trying not to laugh,” Arthur says. 

"No! Of course not," Merlin says quickly, still grinning.

"Yes, you are," Arthur says, "you're terrible at lying."

There's a small pause, as Arthur had breached into a subject they had started to avoid, but he's honest with the comment, and he doesn't want to pretend it didn't happen. Merlin shifts a little, and looks down. "Well..."

"You're good at omitting things," Arthur says, keep his eyes ahead on the road, "but not at lying."

"There's a difference?" Merlin asks, a bit too mildly.

"There is," Arthur says, giving a quick nod. "You've never actually lied to me. Just kept some things to yourself. It's not the same."

Arthur's startled into turning his face to Merlin, as Merlin’s fingers touch Arthur's lightly on the wheel, his hand covering Arthur’s. His face is soft with hope, a smile growing on it. Heart hammering, Arthur shifts his hold on the wheel to lace some of his fingers with Merlin's, squeezing slightly before he pulls away. It's the closest he's gotten to telling Merlin he's forgiven.

"In any case," Merlin says, retracting his own hand, "I'm not actually  _ laughing _ ."

"By some herculean effort," Arthur replies.

"It is hard not to picture you in armor waving a sword around," Merlin says with a grin.

"Then I'm sure you don't need actual pictures of it," Arthur says.

"There are pictures?" Merlin asks excitedly. "Where? Can I see them? Arthur!"

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, you wouldn't mention them if you didn't want me to see them," Merlin says.

"Perhaps I just wanted to dangle them in front of you."

"Or," Merlin says, nodding, "I can just ask Morgana."

"She doesn't have any."

"Nah, I think she does," Merlin says, "and I think she'd share them."

"Maybe she does," Arthur concedes, sighing. "Alright. I should have something on my ipad, I'll let you check it once we get to the hotel."

"I'll remind you of it," Merlin says, "you can't take it back."

"Says who?"

"I do," Merlin sits a bit straighter, smiling too much for his serious tone.

"We'll see," Arthur replies, trying not to smile in response, feeling too fond of the man sitting beside him.

 

Two hours later finds them sitting in silence, Arthur's leg feeling heavy and starting to bother him from pressing on the gas for so long, but he keeps going. They're aren't even halfway there. The radio is firmly turned off, after Merlin's annoying attempt at singing pop music, and they've been quiet for a while. Arthur glances to the side to see if Merlin fell asleep, but he's awake, mouth closed and shoulders slightly hunched as he gazes out of the window. Arthur almost regrets forbidding him from singing.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"Hmm?" Merlin turns to him, still looking subdued. "Oh, nothing?"

"Merlin."

Merlin sighs, and looks out again, "If you could see your mother, what would you tell her?"

Arthur's quiet for a moment, thinking it over and deciding what to share. "I would tell her I'm sorry." Would she blame him? Would she regret choosing his life over hers? The way his father looks at him sometimes, over the years, has told him enough to know his answer. He doesn't know if he'd like to know his mother's too. "And thank her for what she gave me."

Merlin's hand rests on his shoulder for a moment. "Sorry."

"It doesn't help with what you want from your father," Arthur replies, shrugging it off. He doesn't know much of what he misses when he thinks of his mother, having no memory of her, but he knows what his own existence has caused, what it has done to his father, and it works on him like an old wound. It's always there, but he rarely thinks of it enough to cause much hurt. "The situation is different. He should be the one apologizing. He should be coming to you."

"I want answers, I suppose," Merlin says, lifting a shoulder, "about what I can do. What he can do. And about mum."

"Does she know?" Arthur asks, glancing at him, "Does she know you're doing this?"

"Don't think so," Merlin says, "Gaius does, but I don't... I won’t tell her, not until I talk to my father. I don't want to hurt her. He left her to be a single mother."

Arthur nods. "And he left you, too," he says, trying to sound gentler, so his own feelings on the matter won’t show. He dislikes this man already, but he can't let his judgement overlap Merlin's. He's not the one who should decide to forgive him for abandoning his family, but Merlin's father better have a decent explanation for what he did, or Arthur will restrain himself very little.

“Yeah,” Merlin says, “I want to know why.”

Arthur nods, and takes his left hand out of the wheel to touch Merlin’s leg lightly, before retracting it again. They’re quiet again for a while before he speaks. “Why did you call me?”

“My car can’t make the trip, Gaius doesn’t have one anymore,” Merlin glances at him, “Will practically grew up with me, he’s too close to the situation. And you... You understand, wanting to do something when you have a chance to talk about it. Not for the same reasons, your mum didn’t leave you on purpose but… you’d want to know her. I want to know him. To understand his choices.”

“I hope he has some good explanations,” Arthur says, “and you have to remember he can’t be trusted. This man has left you once, and you have no idea why. Don’t give away too much that he can pick on, make him talk without knowing your expectations. He should be more honest that way.”

"More honest?"

"If he wants your forgiveness, he can latch onto any excuses you try to come up with," Arthur says, "I know you have created some stupid ideas in that head of yours of how he ran away to save you, and if you tell him that, he'll just feed into the idea, and you won't know if it's the truth."

"Maybe he did," Merlin says, frowning a bit.

"Maybe, yes, but you don't know that. He can just be a scumbag who'll try to take advantage of you," Arthur says in warning, his idea of holding back his own thoughts apparently gone out of the window. "You don't know him, and you can't just trust whatever he says."

"I know that," Merlin says, crossing his arms over his chest, "I do. But if I don't believe in anything he says, then what's the point of this? I'll know just as much as I do now."

"I'm just saying you have to be careful," Arthur says, "and you can't just take everything at face value. Let him explain, but don't just believe it because you want it to be true."

"Yeah," Merlin says, "if we find him, anyway."

"We will," Arthur says, "if Gaius was right, we'll find him."

"...And if I do believe him?"

"Then you do," Arthur replies, "I'm only trying to keep you from getting hurt by him again. No man is worth your tears."

Arthur keeps looking straight ahead as he feels Merlin's eyes on him, self conscious of what he said but not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

"Thanks," Merlin says a few moments later, finally looking away. "For coming. You didn't have to."

"Anytime," Arthur says with a small shrug.

Silence settles around them again, but it's more comfortable this time.

 

They stop at a gas station near York for a quick break. Arthur watches Merlin jog into the service area to fetch them some coffee, and he turns to walk around the parking lot. It's cold, and he'd probably enjoy it more if he went inside where there's light and walls blocking the cold breeze, but he needs to stretch his legs, and he’s been closed in four walls for hours already.

Merlin comes back two minutes later with a paper cup in each hand, shuddering as he reaches Arthur's side, close by the car. "God, it's cold here!"

"And for someone who always walks around with some rag around your neck, you sure forgot to bring a proper scarf, didn't you?" Arthur asks, hands twitching to grab the most likely hot cup.

"Well, not really!" Merlin holds out a cup for him, "it's in my bag. I think."

Arthur shakes his head, letting out a loud sigh as he turns to the car, unlocking it and reaching inside. "Lucky for you, I brought one just in case." He pulls back to show Merlin the red scarf in his hand.

Merlin looks down at his full hands, and before he can try to hold both cups in a hand and spill their coffee, Arthur steps in his space, raising his hands to wrap the scarf around Merlin's neck, fingers touching lightly on his skin as he makes sure it's secure, brushing the end of his hair as he fixes the scarf. He steps back and looks at Merlin, pleased with the red against the pale color of his skin, quickly matching the tone of Merlin's cheeks and nose.

"There," he says, taking a cup from Merlin's hands, cupping it with both of his own to warm them up.

"Thanks," Merlin says after a moment, looking down.

And if moments later Arthur catches him raising the scarf lightly to press against his cheek, it obviously doesn't warm him up as much as the coffee he's drinking does. 

They finish the coffee quickly, walking off to a trash bin to throw the cups away, and then he unlocks the car again. 

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur says, opening the door and going inside, turning the heat on as soon as he can, to chase off the cold that started seeping into the car while it was off. "We still have at least two hours to go."

"I should drive now," Merlin says, coming to his side with a frown. 

"I'm good to go, Merlin."

"No, you've done more than half the trip. It's my turn."

They look at each other in silence for a moment, Arthur's frown growing, but then he sighs, unbuckling the seat belt and getting off the car. "You're going to get us lost."

"No, I'm not," Merlin grins, getting in the driver's seat and closing the door. He waits until Arthur walks around the car and gets in to talk again. "I have an amazing sense of direction."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Arthur mutters, but he doesn't complain further as Merlin drives them away. He also makes sure to keep his GPS working, and Merlin certainly doesn’t complain about that either.


	28. Oakenshield

It’s a good thing Merlin got to be the one driving, because it allows Arthur to search on Tripadvisor places to eat nearby. As they arrive, he gives off directions until Merlin parks the car along the curb, in front of the most popular pub in the area.

“The Rising Sun,” Merlin reads the sign off the building as he turns off the car. “I hope they’re open, I’m starving.”

“I could eat,” Arthur says as he gets out of the car, accepting the keys Merlin hands to him after locking it. “And it’s ten minutes away from the woods, so they should know something. It’s a good place to start asking questions.”

The place manages to look both warm and inviting when they step in, but also old, and out of date. They sit down at a booth, looking for the menus for a moment before a tired looking waitress appears.

"What can I get you?" she asks, holding a notebook and a pen, grey hair hiding her face as she writes it down as they both orders burgers. As she steps away, Arthur speaks up.

"Just a second. We're looking for a man called..." he hesitates, realizing he doesn't even know Merlin's father's name.

"Balinor," Merlin says, looking up at the old woman.

The waitress is frowning at them now, her posture defensive. Her eyes stay on Merlin's face for a long moment before she speaks, "Never heard of him."

"He was one of the men who helped at the Chopwell Woods' fire," Arthur says.

"Lots of people were there, I'm afraid I can't help you. Can I get you anything else?"

"Not for now, no," Arthur says, and they're quiet as they watch her go to the kitchen.

"She knows," Merlin says.

"She definitely does. I wonder why she's lying. Do you think she's warning him about us?"

Merlin looks at the doors leading to the kitchen, "I don't know if that's a good thing."

"Either he'll come over or we won't find him."

Merlin nods.

"But," Arthur adds, trying to catch Merlin's eye, "if she does contact him, then perhaps we can convince her to set up a meeting."

Merlin nods again, looking increasingly nervous.

"Or," Arthur says, trying to understand him, "we can go home. There's no shame in not wanting to meet him."

"No, I do," Merlin says, meeting his eyes at last, "I just don't know what I'll say."

"You'll do fine," Arthur says, "He's still your father, there's a chance he's as much of a mess as you are."

Merlin send him a look, but doesn’t answer to his comment. The drinks come shortly after by the same waitress, and if she contacted Balinor in any way, she doesn't share it with them.

"Did you see him?" Arthur asks, "on the news. Or was it just Gaius?"

Merlin shakes his head, "Gaius did."

"So you don't know what he looks like," Arthur says.

"I figured I'd know when I saw him."

The food arrives just in time, which means Arthur doesn't have to reply to that. He doubts Merlin will recognize him just like that, as if you were just drawn to people you share blood with. Arthur knew Morgana from the day he was born, and he never guessed she was actually his sister until the day their father told them so, and even so it had been hard to believe at the time.  

They catch the waitress looking their way most of the time during their meal, and at some point she's joined by another waiter. The pub isn't empty enough for them to focus on Arthur and Merlin without another reason. He hopes they haven't warned Balinor off.

"The bill, please," Arthur says when she comes over again. "And are you sure you haven't heard of a Balinor? We'd really like to meet him."

Her eyes go to Merlin again, even though it was Arthur who spoke. "And what do you want with him?"

"Just talk," Merlin says, "I have some questions for him."

She looks down at them and nods, going away. Arthur and Merlin share a look, unsure of what to make of it, and before they can even talk she's back, placing the bill in front of Arthur.

"You can find him at the Chopwell woods, he's a ranger there. But don't get your hopes up," she says, still speaking to Merlin.

"Why?" Merlin asks.

"He won't welcome you. Balinor hates everything and everyone, and he doesn't take kind to strangers. Especially the kind with questions."

"Thanks for the warning," Arthur says, placing the money on the table. "We better be off to find him then. Merlin?"

"Yeah, yeah," Merlin gets up at the same time as him, and turns to the old waitress, "Thanks."

"Have you told him we were coming?" Arthur asks as he puts on the jacket.

The waitress laughs. "Told him! I'd have to go all the way to the woods myself, dear. The man doesn't even have a cellphone."

Arthur nods, and he waits for Merlin to finish thanking her again before they go outside, back into the car.

"He doesn't seem... very sociable," Arthur comments as he gets in the driver's seat, putting the key in the ignition. 

"Yeah," Merlin agrees with a small frown.

"So you're clearly very unlike him already," Arthur says, driving off.

Merlin looks at him as if he’s unsure if he can take that for the compliment it is.

The problem that presents, once someone at the entrance indicates where in the woods Balinor should be, is that the place isn’t exactly small. They take almost twenty minutes to reach the edge of of his area, at least according to the map they grabbed at the entry. Merlin seemed surprised when Arthur picked it up, and Arthur almost sighs fondly as he imagines what would have happened if Merlin came in on his own, stumbling over roots without any guidance.

It takes almost half an hour until they find another person, a man with their back to them, sitting on a log on the side of a path. He's grey haired, hair pulled back into a bun, his jacket brown and far too used. They look at each other, and at Merlin's nod, Arthur steps forward.

"Excuse me, sir?" he calls, and stills once the man turns on the log to look at them. He doesn't know if he'd see it if they weren't looking for Merlin's father, but this man resembles him. They have the same cheekbones, the long face, and his hair, if Arthur imagines it without the graying, should have been just as dark as Merlin's.

"What do you want?" he asks, frowning at them, defensive and hostile. Just like that, the resemblance is gone.

"We're looking for a man named Balinor," Merlin says.

"He's passed on."

"We've been told he was working here today," Arthur says.

"Who are you?" the man gets up, facing them properly.

"I'm... I'm Merlin," Merlin says with some hesitance. Arthur puts a hand on his arm.

"And him?" he motions to Arthur.

"My name is Arthur. Are you Balinor?"

"What do you want from me?" Balinor asks.

"Just to talk, that's all," Merlin says.

Balinor crosses his arms, annoyance flickering on his face.

Merlin looks between him and Arthur, confusion and hesitance written all over him.

Arthur's hand moves up Merlin's arm to rest on his shoulder. "Do you want me to go? I can go back down the path a little, to give you some privacy."

Merlin nods, quiet as he looks at him.

"I'll stay close enough that I'll hear if you want me to come back," Arthur says. His hand comes further up, cupping Merlin's cheek for a moment as he resists the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to it, and then, with a last glance at Balinor, he turns around and leaves.

 

He spends half an hour fretting, pacing on the path, moving between the oak trees, both the old and new, that block his sight from Merlin and his father, as he resists the urge to go back to Merlin's side. Balinor hasn't improved Arthur's preconceptions of him, not even a little, and Arthur wants to be there if the man hurts Merlin any further. 

He hears the sounds of crunching leaves, some voices, and turns his head just as Merlin comes into view as he walks down the path, Balinor at his side. Something changed, that much is obvious, because Merlin grins at Arthur, and there's something softer about Balinor as he looks at his son. Merlin touches his arm lightly, and then hurries his step to meet Arthur.

"I told my father to have dinner with us tonight," Merlin says as he reaches his side, "and that we're staying until tomorrow, so we'll come back here again."

"We can't stay for long," Arthur reminds him, "we have a six hour drive back to London."

"Stay until lunch, then," Balinor says, and the hostility is gone from his voice. "My treat. It's the least I can do."

"It really is," Arthur says.

"Arthur," Merlin says in warning, pressing a hand on his arm.

"No, your boyfriend is right," Balinor says. "I should have done it sooner."

"Oh, he's not... " Merlin says, not meeting anyone's eye.

“Is partner the correct term? I don’t know these things anymore.”

"We're friends," Arthur says, without much conviction.

Balinor looks between them for a moment. "Of course."

A strained silence grows between them, with Merlin shifting uncomfortably, his hand still on Arthur's arm, almost at his wrist now. "So, we'll see you at seven? At the Rising Sun?"

"I'll be there," Balinor says. "I must go back to work. I'll see you later, son."

"Yeah," Merlin says, with a small smile, "see you then, father."

Balinor nods, his eyes lingering on Merlin before he goes back to his post. Arthur turns to Merlin once he's out of sight. "Are you alr—"

He stops mid sentence, as Merlin pulls him into a hug. His arms are tight around Arthur, his hands clutching a little at the back of his jacket, and he's pressed against Arthur's chest as a wall of warmth. His chin tucks into Arthur's shoulder as he breathes out shakily. Arthur isn't usually the type of person who does hugs, but he winds his arms around Merlin and pulls him closer. Merlin's hair tickles his nose lightly, and he waits as he feels Merlin relax against him, his body slumping against Arthur's, his hand drifting to Arthur's lower back, breath coming out soft against the side of his neck. He touches the back of Merlin's head lightly, fingers brushing in his hair, before he pulls back from the hug, hands on Merlin's arms. 

"Are you alright?" he asks again.

"Yeah," Merlin says, smiling a bit. "He's... not that bad."

Arthur lets go of him, nodding, but, as fine as Merlin is, he can't seem to do without touch, reaching out for his arm again. Arthur throws an arm over his shoulders, pulling him to his side as he starts walking away. "Tell me how it went."

"I told him I was his son," Merlin says, as they leave, "he didn't believe me. He didn't know my mum was pregnant when he left."

"So he says," Arthur adds.

"Yeah, but I believe him. I had to tell him about Gaius and mum and Ealdor until he believed it."

"Maybe he's ditching pregnant women all over the country and lost track of it."

"Don't be an ass," Merlin says, "does he really look like the kind of person women want to be with? He spends all his time in the forest, lives in a cabin."

"He looks sort of homeless," Arthur agrees.

"He says," Merlin hesitates before continuing, "he says there were people after him, and that's why he left. Didn't want to bring any danger into mum's life."

"Because of his powers? What people?"

"He didn't say," Merlin says, "not about who. He can heal people, and do stuff with fire. There was also something about reptiles or something, but he wasn't very clear on that."

"So you really got it from him."

Merlin nods. "He said it's been in the family for generations."

"That's good, right?"

"Yeah, that's good."

"And what about him?"

Merlin looks at him. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think of him?"

"I don't know," Merlin looks down, "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't him. He's resentful and angry and distrusting. He's been living in a cabin in the woods for years, and avoids people as much as he can."

"You're clearly different from him."

"He said it's because of the magic," Merlin says, "that it drives the good away, and it gets the attention of bad people. The lady from the pub was right, he hates everyone."

Arthur looks at him, and sighs, using his arm over Merlin's shoulder to pull him into a headlock, rubbing the top of his head. "Snap out of it, Merlin! Do you really think you'll run away from everything to live like a hippie communing with nature? That's not you."

"Thanks," Merlin mutters, his appreciation noticeable even beneath his annoyance.

"You're more of the tin foiled cap running around in his underwear kind, in any case."

"That's a lovely vote of confidence," Merlin straightens up, out of his hold.

They walk in silence for a while, surrounded only by the sound of the crunching leaves, and the wind sweeping through gently from the trees, and it feels good to follow this path alongside Merlin. It feels right.

"Do you want to have dinner with him?" Arthur asks.

"I want to know him," Merlin says, "we didn't really get much of a chance to talk things through."

"Do you want me to go eat elsewhere?"

"No," Merlin says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I want you there."

Arthur nods. He's not looking forward to it much, but he'll do it. They reach the car in no time this time around, and Arthur ignores Merlin's protests as he gets inside by the wheel. 

"We should check in at the hotel now," Arthur says, following along the only path they have on the way out, reaching the freeway.

"One night, right?"

"Unless you want another, but I don't think—"

His phone starts ringing, and Arthur sighs loudly, keeping his eyes on the road as he takes it out of his pocket and hands it to Merlin.

"It's Morgana," he says.

"Put her on speaker."

Merlin obviously does as told, because her voice fills the car a second later. "Arthur, where are you?" she hisses into the phone.

"Out of town."

"Out of town? Why would you do this to me, Arthur! Do you remember that important conversation we had a while ago?"

Arthur sighs, "Look, Morgana..."

“Because it has become very relevant again!”

“I doubt there’s anything relevant about your dire need for Guinevere to stop talking about Lance. Have you tried counting to ten like I told you to?”

“That’s not it!” Morgana says, “Arthur, Uther and Catrina are back and you left me to deal with them on my own!”

“Right,” Arthur says with a small groan. “I forgot to warn you. I told Leon I was going away for a couple of days.”

“I can’t believe you did this to me!”

“You’re being dramatic, Morgana, I was looking forward to seeing them this weekend—”

“Big talk for someone who left without warning!”

“That’s my fault,” Merlin chimes in. “I asked him.”

There’s a small pause. “Merlin?” she asks, in surprise.

“Yeah. I asked Arthur to come with me.”

“And you’re on speaker,” Arthur warns a bit late. “My hands are busy.”

“Oh! Did you two— are you calling me from  _ bed _ ?”

“Morgana!” Arthur feels his cheeks warm up, “I’m driving.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

"What do you want, Morgana," Arthur lets out, a little tense. 

"We'll get back to this," his sister warns, "but this is more important. Arthur, I meant the conversation about the wedding."

"The one I didn't want to talk about ever again, yes, what is it now?" Arthur sighs.

"Well, Uther and Catrina invited me over to see pictures of their honeymoon and to tell me stories about it. But Arthur," her voice changes, a little higher, "Catrina has gained weight!"

Arthur pulls a hand from the wheel to pinch the brick of his nose. "Not this again..."

"What's so bad about that?" Merlin asks. "They probably went to places with really interesting food."

"It's not her weight, I couldn't care less about her size," Morgana says, "but this goes very well along the theory that she's pregnant, doesn't it?"

"Tell me you didn't comment on it, Morgana," Arthur asks.

There's silence from the other side of the line. Arthur waits a little before he asks again. "Morgana?"

"No, of course I didn't!" Morgana replies at last, but there's something wrong with her tone of voice, "I may have asked if they got sick during the trip, and apparently something upset her stomach because she had some sickness for a while..."

"It's probably just what they say it is, Morgana. They're not hiding a secret pregnancy from us, I thought we had that figured out."

"You just don't want her to be pregnant! Arthur, this is important—"

"No, it's not," Arthur says, "they're married. If she was pregnant, now would be the time to tell us. What would they gain from hiding a pregnancy from us?"

"Maybe they don't want to keep it," Morgana says.

"Now you're pushing it, Morgana," Arthur frowns, "she could have gotten an abortion at any point so far."

"Alright, so they do want to keep it. Then why aren't they telling us?"

"Because she’s not pregnant!"

"Or," Morgana says, her tone full of realization, "they're waiting for you to be here so they can tell us both at the same time! Arthur, you have to come home."

"No, I don't," Arthur replies, "you're being ridiculous about this. You can wait until Sunday."

"Sunday?" Morgana lets out, shocked, "Why not tomorrow? Arthur, this is really unfair!"

"Its one day, Morgana."

"It's one more day of waiting, of dealing with their stories! You're not the one having dinner with them tonight!"

"Small blessings," Arthur replies.

"You are the worst brother in history," Morgana says, and hangs up.

Merlin looks at the phone in silence for a moment. "So. Is this really what you and Morgana chat about? Gossip about your father's secret pregnancy?"

Arthur rubs his the side of his face with a hand, quick to put it back on the wheel. "Morgana is the worst. She got the idea in her head and doesn't shut up about it."

"Would it be so bad? If they had a baby?"

"No, of course not," Arthur says, "it'd be odd, I mean, I'd be old enough to be its father. But I'd be happy for them, and wouldn't say no to someone new in the family. We're not many."

"Yeah, I get it."

Arthur nods, glancing at him. "Yes. It's why we're here, after all."

Merlin nods. "...Sorry I took over your weekend. I didn't know you had plans."

Arthur shrugs, "They're not as important as this. I can see my father on Sunday."

"I should have checked if you had anything, anyway."

"I offered, Merlin," Arthur says, "I'd rather be here."

"That’d be almost flattering, if I knew you weren't trying to avoid them because of some mystery child."

“There is no baby, god,” Arthur sighs, but he’s amused, “you make my life sound like a soap opera.”

“Isn’t it? Dashing young heir to a fortune and a theater, with the wicked half sister who shocked everyone when she was revealed, now brought into the plot of the evil stepmother, who is carrying the baby that will overtake their father’s attention…” Merlin says, hand sliding in the air as he paints the picture. “Meanwhile going across country with his…” he falters a bit, his cheeks turning red. “Well…”

“His… Merlin,” Arthur finishes the sentence for him, not wanting to hear what exactly he’d say.

“Yeah,” Merlin grins, “to look for his long lost father.”

“So you manage to make it sound like a soap opera, that doesn’t mean it  _ is _ .”

Merlin makes a doubtful noise.

“If anything,” Arthur continues, “this should be a fantasy story. Clumsy idiot with super powers on the journey to their origin, drags handsome friend with a car through many challenges.”

“What challenges?” Merlin asks, “when the waiter didn’t offer information to random strangers?”

“No, when you decided it was a good idea to open the window with the heater on,” Arthur replies, gesturing to said car window, “or when you thought singing would somehow make the journey more pleasant.”

“They were only challenges because you tried to stop me.”

“No, they were challenges because you tried to do it anyway,” Arthur replies.

“This isn’t a young adult novel,” Merlin makes a face.

“And a soap opera sounds better?” Arthur replies, quickly glancing at him before he shifts gears, parking the car.

“At least it’s closer to our age segment,” Merlin says.

“If you say so,” Arthur hooks his arm over the seat to look back. “I don’t think that makes it better.”

“I’m not Harry Potter,” Merlin says, “so yeah, it does.”

“I suppose not. Well, as far as I know.”

“As far as you know? Arthur, he’s fictional, you do know that. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” Arthur puffs out, sitting straight again as he finishes aligning the car. “I just mean, I don’t really know his story. Boy wizard goes to magic school and meets some odd vampires who sparkle?”

He pulls the car back a little bit before he turns off the engine, and only then notices that a silence has been growing in the car. He turns to look at Merlin, who’s staring at him wide eyed.

“What?”

“You…” Merlin shakes his head, “that was the saddest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Your father told you he didn’t even know you existed until an hour ago.”

“No, this beats that,” Merlin says, “you just mixed two things that shouldn’t, in any way…”

“So there is no magic school?” Arthur frowns. “I thought I had gotten that one right.”

“What? No, Arthur. You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“No. Why would I? You’re taking this far too seriously, Merlin, it’s just a movie.” Arthur gets out of the car.

“It’s—” Merlin quickly gets out as well, to talk to him as he walks around the car, “It’s eight movies, seven books!” 

“Your point being?”

“You can’t just not know them!”

“My father didn’t let me watch them when they came out,” Arthur says, locking the car, “and then I outgrew the age where it’s fun to watch children waving wands around.”

“Alright, so now  _ that _ is the saddest thing I ever heard.”

“A big fan of it, Merlin?”

“Well, a bit!” Merlin says, “so they don’t get magic right, and they need wands for some reason, and they keep using my name, but it’s still magic! It made everyone love magic and wish for it!”

Arthur pauses, and looks at him, his tone kinder. “And there you were.”

“Well, yeah,” Merlin grins, closing a hand on Arthur’s arm, as they walk side by side into the hotel. “For once being magic didn’t make me feel left out.”

Arthur moves closer to his side, taking him to the reception. “Alright. Good for you, then.”

“And now for you,” Merlin says, as they reach the counter, “you’re going to watch them all with me.”

Arthur buzzes in for an employee, and looks at Merlin again. “I am not.”

Merlin presses his arm against Arthur as he leans a bit against him. “Yeah, you are. You don’t have an option.”

“Don’t I now?”

“Good afternoon,” the receptionist comes in, smiling at them. “So sorry about the delay. What can I do for you?”

“We need a room,” Arthur says. “Two beds.”

“Two beds?” she asks, and is then quick to turn to her computer, “Alright… for how long?”

“One night.”

Arthur passes on the information needed and makes the payment. “Merlin, go fetch our bags.”

“I’m not a servant,” Merlin replies, grabbing the room key. “You go get them.”

“Alright,” Arthur steps back, “I’m only getting my own, then.”

"You're such a prat!" Merlin shoves the keys in his pocket and goes after him. "Why can't you bring both bags?"

"Why can't you?" Arthur replies.

"I'm very tired," Merlin tries, a grin showing on his face as he catches up to him, "I just had a very emotional conversation."

"So you can't use your legs?" Arthur opens the trunk of the car, and throws a bag at Merlin, grabbing the other one.

"I really can't," Merlin fixes the weight on his arms. "Emotion drains my knees."

"Don't be a smart ass, Merlin," Arthur locks the car again, patting his back with a little more strength than needed as he walks past him, back into the building.

Merlin trails after him, long legs apparently not tired enough to quickly get to his side. He doesn't say anything, but he's smiling when Arthur glances at him, waiting for the lift. The silence settles around them as they get on and head up, eyes staying on each other. Merlin grins at him as they go up to their room, and Arthur can’t help but to smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rising Sun is an actual place that exists close to the Chopwell woods! I found it on trip advisor while searching for places where they could stop to eat at, and I wasn't about to waste that amazing coincidence  
> (in other news I almost forgot to post this because I just got home after a weekend at comic con which messed up my entire schedule)


	29. The Shadow of the Past

Dinner with Balinor starts awkwardly. He sits across from them at the table in the Rising Sun, looking uncomfortable to be there, shoulders tense. He keeps looking over his shoulder as if he expects to be ambushed at any moment, and didn’t know how to prepare himself for the occasion.

The staff had looked surprised when he walked in and joined them at their table, and all Arthur and Merlin do about it is share a look that speaks loudly. At least on Arthur's part. It's suspicious, the way the man acts, and he wants Merlin to have nothing to do with it.

"How did you find me?" Balinor asks, moments after the food arrives and the waiter, the same as before, is far away enough so they're not overheard.

"Gaius saw you on the news," Merlin says, "helping with the fire."

"I volunteer," Balinor says, "I find fire... well," he stops, as his gaze shifts quickly to Arthur. "I have a knack for it."

"Arthur knows," Merlin says, his knee pressing against the side of Arthur's leg. "It's okay."

If anything, that only makes Balinor frown at him more. "You told him?"

"He did," Arthur says.

"You shouldn't tell anyone. The more people know, the more dangerous it becomes."

"I trust him," Merlin says. 

"You're betting your life on that," Balinor says, and turns to Arthur with a frown. "His life."

"He's safe with me," Arthur says firmly.

Balinor holds his eyes for a while, and then nods, turning to his food. "You should be more careful, son. The more people know, the quicker they can find you."

"Who's they?"

Balinor puts his fork down, looking at him grimly. "The government. The enemies. Anyone who could use you."

Arthur watches him for a moment, and then shares another look with Merlin. His hand moves to touch Merlin's thigh for a moment, feeling sorry for him. It can't be nice, to meet your father and find him like this.

"Have you ever met them?" Merlin asks, lips pulled together into a small frown.

"No, but you hear stories," Balinor says, "people like us go missing every day."

"You disappeared," Arthur says, "and they didn't take you."

"They were getting close to me," Balinor says. "I didn't want to be found. I had caught a man following me, tracking my moves, for several days in different places. I left without questioning him so they wouldn’t know that I knew."

Arthur just presses his leg a bit further against Merlin's knee, whose only reaction is to stuff his mouth with food. Nothing surprising from him.

"Merlin is a performer," Arthur says, attempting some conversation and a much needed change of subject, "he has a show at my club."

"I do magic tricks," Merlin says with a smile once he swallows. 

"And he's good at it," Arthur says, avoiding Merlin's eyes, "obviously."

Merlin nudges him, but he's smiling. "Obviously? Why, because of magic?"

Balinor tenses at the word, as if anyone could actually presume anything from the conversation. Arthur does his best not to react to him. "Of course. You said it yourself, you don't actually know any tricks. And clumsy as you are, you'd be constantly picking up after lost cards."

"I could actually be great at it without any special skills," Merlin says, "you never know."

"And we never will. What we do know, though..."

"Prat," Merlin chuckles.

Balinor looks at Merlin with worry, but doesn't say what's on his mind. "That's great. As long as you're careful, son."

Conversation is stilted for the rest of the meal, and it's a relief when the check comes  and they finally leave. Balinor gives Arthur a look as he shifts closer to Merlin and, understanding it for what it is, Arthur gives Merlin’s arm a pat. “I’ll wait by the car,” he says, and moves towards it.

He waits outside to keep an eye on them, leaning against the door. He doubts Balinor would do anything, but he doesn’t trust him, and he wants to be available in case Merlin needs him. It seems to be unneeded, as all they do is talk, although he can’t hear them. Balinor moves a hesitant hand to the side of Merlin’s head, patting it softly, and then pulls him into a hug. Merlin hugs back, and they stay close for a moment, before Balinor pats his back and pulls away, hands on Merlin’s shoulders as he speaks again. Merlin glances towards Arthur for a moment, before replying to his father. They let go of each other, and Balinor turns around, walking out of the parking lot as Merlin comes to Arthur’s side.

“He doesn’t like me much, does he?” Arthur asks.

Merlin sighs, sagging beside him, and Arthur moves an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side. 

"He's so paranoid," Merlin says with another sigh, leaning towards him. 

"He is," Arthur agrees.

"I wanted..." Merlin gives a small shrug, and Arthur drops the arm. "I was hoping he'd be... something else. Had thought, maybe, if this went well, that he and mum could try things out again."

"They haven't seen each other in decades," Arthur reminds him, not unkindly, as he opens the door of the car. "Neither of them can be what the other remembers."

"Yeah, I know that," Merlin says when they're both in, and Arthur pulls the car out from the curb, "I just thought that maybe they'd think it'd be worth a shot. Mum hasn't really dated ever since him, so I figured maybe she still loves him."

"Or who he was," Arthur says.

Merlin nods. "Yeah. And when he talks about mum, I think he loves her too. Or who she was. But he’s.... I don’t know who he was,” Merlin looks down, “but he can’t be good for her now.”

Arthur wants to reach out and touch him, not knowing exactly what to say. He's sorry for Merlin, but he's not about to actually say it. "At least he's no longer a mystery."

Merlin chuckles, "Yeah, well. In a way I'd say he still is."

Arthur glances at him, but Merlin looks deep in thought, so he lets it be. The rest of the journey to the hotel is done in silence, but it's also short, and it's only when they're waiting for the lift that Arthur brings up the subject again.

"We don't have to have lunch with him tomorrow," Arthur reminds him.

Merlin looks at him, both looking away as the lift's door opens, and they step in. Arthur presses the button to their floor, and turns to Merlin again. "It's alright if you don't want to see him. He's practically a stranger, you don't owe him anything. If you want, we can say we had to leave early and skip it. Or I can stay behind, find something to eat while you lunch with him, if you think that helps."

Merlin nods, not meeting his eye as he fidgets a bit, hands twitching as he brings one up to rub the top of his hair. 

Arthur raises a hand, and punches him lightly on the arm.

"Ow!" Merlin steps back, hand rubbing at the spot. "What was that for?"

Arthur looks at him, confused, "To cheer you up."

"How is punching me in the arm going to cheer me up?" Merlin asks, tilting his head slightly, but he's still frowning.

Arthur shrugs a bit, not that worried, because Merlin does smile a bit then, and shoves him away a bit. Arthur shoves him back, and Merlin, grinning now, goes to do it again, but Arthur grabs his wrists first. They're standing close, Merlin struggling a little with his hold, Arthur just raising his eyebrows at him. Merlin tries to move closer, Arthur taking a step back to stop him, and the doors ding as they open on their floor.

Arthur, eyes on Merlin, slowly lets go of Merlin's wrists, only to be shoved away quickly. Merlin runs off down the hallway with a laugh, and Arthur's grinning as he chases after him. Merlin just opened the door when Arthur catches up to him, and has it almost slammed in his face.

"Merlin... "

"Truce? You started it."

"And you'll sleep on the floor if you don't let me in," Arthur says, with a foot against the door frame to stop Merlin from closing the door on him.

"I'll take that as a yes." Merlin lets go of the door.

Arthur comes in, and gives a fast step forward, faking lunging at Merlin, who scrambles back, trips on himself and falls on his ass.

"You clotpole!" Merlin lets out, looking up at him with a frown.

Arthur laughs, but he holds out a hand for him, and helps Merlin up. Merlin shoves his arm a bit, and stalks off into the bathroom, but he's chuckling slightly, so it's all good. At least he's in a better mood now.

The room they're in is simple, but with the cheap price, Arthur wasn't expecting much. He looks around the room for a moment, taking in the beige walls and the ugly patterns on the bed covers, and the frame on the wall that seems to have kept the stock picture it came with. 

An excited sound from the bathroom had him head there, only to see Merlin turn to him, smile wide as he holds the small basket with the sample offers of toothbrushes, soaps and skin oils. He then proceeds to brush past him to dump the contents of the basket into his bag.

Arthur watches him fondly for a moment, and goes to his own bed, sitting on it as he watches Merlin sort out everything. He now has to find space to bring everything home with them, and then place his bag on the floor by the bed.

"Will we be in hurry tomorrow?" Merlin asks, sitting cross legged on the bed. "We could stop in places on the way back, do some tourism."

"Depends on when we leave," Arthur says as he takes his bag out and places it on his bed opening it.

"Even if we leave soon after lunch, we should have some time, right? Take our breaks from the road at the right places," Merlin says as Arthur pulls out the pyjama pants he uses to sleep, "How soon will we back up North? I don't know about you, but I can't do this that often."

Arthur hesitates as he looks down at the pants, and holds them in a hand, getting up. "What would you like to see?"

"I don't know," Merlin says, eyes on him as Arthur passes by him on his way to the bathroom, speaking louder when Arthur closes the door behind him. "We should google something."

"Check Tripadvisor," Arthur says, as he undresses, "maybe in York? We stopped close by on the way here. If we leave early enough we should be fine to do something there."

There's silence from the other side of the door, and Arthur takes it to use the toilet.

"Where's your tablet?"

"In my bag."

Silence again, as Arthur washes his hands and puts on the pants he brought in.

"Okay." Merlin says when Arthur opens the door, "there's a lot in York, but these two—" he stops when he looks up at Arthur, mouth opening. His eyes fix themselves on Arthur's chest, and Arthur can almost feel them as he moves his gaze to his shoulders, and then back to his chest. When Merlin's eyes move downwards to his navel, Arthur finally manages to move, bringing his clothes up to his bare chest and moving towards the bed, eyes avoiding Merlin's. 

"What two?" he asks, sitting on the bed and trying not to be too self conscious of his belly. He doesn't have much of it, with all the exercise he does, but he has a tendency to keep some fat there, and it shows more now that he's sitting down. "What did you find?"

"I... hum," Merlin still has his eyes on Arthur, "there's a castle. Some medieval reenactments. Figured we could do that."

"Alright," Arthur says, pulling his bag to himself again. "Anything else?"

"No, not if we don't want to get home too late," Merlin says, "did you forget your pyjama top? Are you sleeping like that?"

"I always sleep like this," Arthur says, but he's regretting not bringing a shirt now, and Merlin, by the pained look on his face, seems to wish he had done it too.

"Alright," Merlin says, as he clutches his pyjama to his chest, getting up, "I'll just get dressed. Check the places I opened," he motions towards the tablet placed on his bed.

Arthur nods, not looking at Merlin as he leans over to grab it. The door of the bathroom almost slams closed with Merlin in it, and Arthur sighs, quickly running a hand through his hair. He should have brought a shirt. At the time he had just placed the pants he'd been wearing that week into the bag for the trip, and hadn't really considered being shirtless around Merlin. It shouldn't be that much of a deal, Arthur has been shirtless among his friends, at least once per week, and Merlin should be used to it too, being around Gwaine all the time. Remembering Gwaine has a leaner, more defined body is not a good idea when he's spending the night shirtless right next to Merlin.

He turns to the tablet, checking the two tabs on York attractions Merlin opened up, and reads them while he waits for Merlin to return. He looks up once Merlin comes out of the bathroom, with a large blue pyjamas that are a bit long on his legs. Merlin looks like he's drowning in it, face regretful of his choice as well, as he pulls up the elastic band of his pants slightly. Arthur tracks the movement.

"The castle," Arthur says. "it's cheaper and it sounds more interesting than jumps scares."

"Thematic jump scares," Merlin says, going back to his bag. Arthur moves past him into the bathroom, keeping the door open as he rinses his toothbrush under the sink. "Too scared?"

"No, I'd just rather see the castle. It has the setting as well, but you'll learn more on history than on the other option."

Merlin grins as he comes in the bathroom as well, "Yeah, and you're a big history nerd, I forgot."

Arthur sends him a glare, but with his mouth too full of foam and toothbrush to really reply.

"How could I forget?" Merlin asks, "you're a knight, after all."

Arthur looks up to the ceiling, wishing he hadn't told Merlin anything about it. He leans down to spit some of the foam, and goes back to brushing his teeth.

"Now move over, I need some space."

Arthur looks at the sink in front of him, and then Merlin at his side, and just shifts slightly, planting his feet apart so he can't be moved away, opening the tap and spitting out the rest of the foam.

"Arthur, come on, don't be a prat," Merlin bumps his shoulder into Arthur's trying to push him away.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Merlin," Arthur says, holding back a smile as he leans over to rinse his mouth.

Merlin hits his back, making him cough it all out, and turn his head to glare at him. Arthur straightens up again, grabbing a towel to dry his face.

"You're going to regret that."

"You know if you could just move over..."

"I'm not done here," Arthur claims, putting the toothbrush in the small glass cup by the tap. 

"Come on, you clotpole," Merlin says, placing the toothbrush in his mouth, and then his hands come up, landing flat against Arthur's side and on his shoulder, pressing against him to move him away, and Arthur, too surprised by Merlin's touch on his bare skin, stumbles slightly to the side, allowing him the room he needs. They look at each other, Merlin’s hands burning against his skin for a long moment, before Merlin pulls his hands back in a quick movement. Arthur feels the loss of his touch acutely, but he does his best to ignore it.

Arthur stares at him, not knowing how to move anymore, as Merlin's eyes come up to lock on his, wide, pupils dilated, the damn toothbrush still hanging from his open mouth. Arthur, breath catching at his throat, grabs the toothbrush, yanking it out of Merlin's mouth and hits his cheek with it.

"Ow," Merlin lets out without much feeling, his hands jerking away. Arthur places the toothbrush in Merlin's hand.

"Hurry up, Merlin, I want the lights out in five minutes," Arthur says, moving around him. He pauses for a moment, clasping a hand on the back of Merlin's neck and squeezing lightly, his thumb pressing right behind his ear, and letting his hand drag away before he turns and moves out of the bathroom, his heart pounding in his ears still.

"Stupid prat," Merlin mutters, wetting the toothbrush.

Coward's more like it, Arthur thinks, but he refrains from saying it. He gets in bed, covers up to his lap as he sits up against the headboard and unlocks his tablet, trying to focus on planning the trip for tomorrow, and the necessary stops. His mind keeps going back to the warmth of Merlin’s hands on his skin.

Merlin comes back a few minutes later, sending him a glare that doesn't really work because his eyes drop anyway from Arthur's face to his chest. He gets in bed, lying down and pulling the covers up, shoulders hunched as he puffs out.

Arthur grabs one of the extra pillows on the bed and swings it at Merlin, hitting him in the head. "Stop mumbling and go to sleep, we have a long day ahead."

He gives Merlin a few moments before he reaches over and turns off the lights, closing the tablet and lying down on the bed, pulling the cover up to his shoulders. 

"... goodnight," comes from the other bed, which is close enough that in the dark, it could almost sound like Merlin is sharing one with him.

"Goodnight, Merlin," Arthur replies, turning to lie on his back.

Silence settles around them, increasingly uncomfortable as it makes the sounds of the sheets shifting as they change positions all the more obvious, both clearly awake, and Arthur apparently unable to think of anything but Merlin's warm hands on him. He lets out a quiet sigh, turning his face towards Merlin's bed, wondering what would have happened if he had just moved closer back then, or touched Merlin in return. What if he gets off the bed now, and takes the one step he needs to reach Merlin’s bed.

Eventually Merlin starts snoring softly, and it takes a while longer still for Arthur to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small announcement, folks! I've got a Chritmas gift to you all (religious or not, I know I 'm not at all!).   
> I will be releasing the next chapter on the 24th, instead of next Monday! It is the anniversary of the show's end after all (;


	30. Of the Beginning of Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning: I bumped up the rate of the fic to mature because of this chapter (;

Arthur’s the first to wake up, because of course he would wake early after a restless night, trying not to think about Merlin sleeping right beside him. And of course, when he grabs his phone with a sigh and checks the time, he sees that he woke up way before the alarm. He turns it off, sitting up and after giving himself a moment to wake, rubs his face with a hand, and then goes to the bathroom.

Bladder empty and mouth clean, he glances over to see Merlin still asleep, illuminated only by the soft light coming from the bathroom, curled onto his side, hair wild on his head, mouth open and drooling into the pillow. Merlin’s hand comes up to rub his cheek, before falling limp off the bed, and Arthur stops as his chest is filled with warmth. 

Of all things to make his heart race, it shouldn’t be Merlin nuzzling against the pillow, or the damp drool stain on it, or his ridiculously big pyjamas, and yet Arthur is yearning for all of it in a way he hasn’t before. The thought of Merlin doing all of this on his bed, drooling on Arthur’s pillows, is stupidly endearing and wanted. He could wake up to this every day.

Arthur moves to the side of Merlin’s bed, sitting on it carefully, and puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, shaking it slightly. “Merlin.”

Merlin swats at him weakly, hitting his arm.

“Wake up.”

Merlin presses his face against the pillow, “No, go away,” he slurs out the words.

Arthur pulls down the covers fast. “Wake up, you idiot.”

Merlin hits him a bit harder this time, and sits up with a groan, rubbing at his eyes with both hands. “You prat! What time is it?”

“Seven am,” Arthur answers, placing a hand on the bed and leaning closer.

Merlin lowers his hands to glare at him, “What do you want, you toad eyed monkey?”

Arthur kisses him. Merlin stills in shock, and for a moment so does Arthur, surprised with the heat he feels spreading inside him, with his own loud heartbeat, with the softness of Merlin’s lips against his own. Then he cups Merlin’s jaw, tilting his head and pressing closer, harder, releasing a harsh breath when Merlin makes a needy sound into his mouth, finally reacting. Merlin’s hand come up to clutch at his shoulder and neck, mouth opening again to move fast and eagerly against Arthur’s, almost sloppily.

Arthur presses closer against him, groaning slightly as Merlin bites his lower lip, and Merlin sinks into the bed, pulling on him until Arthur’s over him, his chest pressing against Merlin’s, the hand on Merlin’s jaw forcing him to tilt his head so he can kiss him deeper, tongue moving to his mouth and feeling the tremble of Merlin’s moan.

“Finally,” Merlin lets out when they break apart to breathe, panting against each other’s mouth. “Took you long enough.”

“Your breath tastes horribly,” Arthur replies, eyes fluttering closed as Merlin’s hand moves down his back, “I should have waited a while longer, until you at least brushed your teeth,” he says, but his mouth presses on the corner of Merlin’s mouth, on his jaw.

“Sure, get off me, then,” Merlin says, a hand digging deep into Arthur’s hair, “I’ll go do that.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur lets out, and kisses him again.

Merlin puffs out a laugh into the kiss, pulling him closer as he smiles against Arthur’s mouth. Arthur hums against it, but it’s not exactly easy to kiss someone whose lips are stretched into a smile. Arthur pulls back after a moment, grinning despite himself. “Stop smiling, you idiot, you’re ruining the kiss.”

Merlin laughs out loud this time, eyes bright and smile wide, impossible to kiss, and so tempting. “I’m ruining the kiss? You said I have bad breath!”

“You do! And surprisingly, it’s not what’s stopping this from happening,” Arthur’s grinning right back at him, and pressing closer to kiss his bottom lip, voice fond as he continues, “you’re terrible at this.”

“Very romantic, you prat,” Merlin replies just as fondly, and tilts his head, to brush his lips properly on Arthur’s, “I’ll give you terrible.”

There’s definitely nothing terrible about the way Merlin drags his tongue along Arthur’s mouth, or on how he sucks on his bottom lip, tugging on it just enough, and not even the way he keeps smiling into it, as if he can’t hold it back.

“Maybe not that terrible,” Arthur concedes, pressing his forehead against Merlin’s.

“I’m swooning here,” Merlin says, “completely astonished with your way of words.”

“That’s some big vocabulary you’ve got there, Merlin. I’m surprised.”

“Yeah?” Merlin tugs slightly on his hair, and if it was meant as a punishment it didn’t really work the way it was intended to. “Well, I’m surprised you’re doing this at all. Why now? Was it the toad eyed insult? I’ve been meaning to call you that for a while now, and if I knew I’d have said it sooner.”

“Of course not, you idiot,” Arthur says, thumb stroking Merlin’s cheek slowly. “You were drooling on the pillow.”

“How attractive,” Merlin says, his cheeks flushed, hand coming up to rub at his own chin, “I see why you couldn’t resist.”

“It wasn’t attractive,” Arthur says, propping up on an elbow to look at him.

“No, no, no need to hide it from me,” Merlin says, smiling wide “are you one of those who likes people sleeping?”

“Of course not, Merlin.”

“Because I can be all Sleeping Beauty here if that’s what gets you off.”

“What, lying there and doing nothing, like the useless idiot you are?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you have a thing for unconscious people.”

“I don’t have a thing for comas, Merlin, I have a thing for you!” Arthur lets out, frustration creeping in.

Merlin grins brightly at him, cupping his face with both hands. “Yeah?”

“Not a word,” Arthur mutters, leaning down to kiss him again, pressing his mouth hard on Merlin’s to swallow down his laughter. Once he stops laughing, thanks to a swipe of Arthur’s tongue on his lip, Merlin slows down the kiss for them, his mouth dragging pleasantly with Arthur’s, his hands moving down Arthur’s back, and along his side. Arthur can’t help but to shudder slightly against him, letting out a pleased sound into the kiss as Merlin shifts his hips, spreading his legs so Arthur can fit between them and press even closer.

He can’t quite believe this is really happening, almost can’t believe how light he feels, giddy as he moves closer, pressed from chest to hips against Merlin. Kissing Merlin, actually kissing him, fills him with a rush he hadn’t quite expected, a warmth spreading in his chest as he sinks his fingers into Merlin’s dark hair. He’s smiling a little into kiss, despite his earlier comments, but Merlin doesn’t seem to mind, kissing him deeply and intensely, the drag of his tongue making Arthur feel weak, and press even closer.

Arthur lets out a shuddered breath, starting to harden against Merlin’s hip, but he does his best to ignore it. He licks into Merlin’s mouth as he sneaks a hand underneath the shirt of his pyjamas, grinning slightly into the kiss at Merlin’s pleased sound, and arching a bit into the touch of his palm on Merlin’s hip. Merlin’s hands are warm on Arthur’s skin, low on his back, brushing on the waistband of his pants.

Arthur breaks the kiss, letting out a shaky breath, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead on Merlin’s, lifting his hips slightly because he’s moments away from humping Merlin. “Wait, I need a moment to— fuck,” he lets out with a pant, as Merlin pushes his hips upwards against Arthur’s, rubbing their crotches together, and letting him know just how interested he is.

Merlin makes a pleased sound, bringing Arthur close again by the hand very much on his ass now. Arthur groans slightly as Merlin starts a slow, steady roll of his hips on Arthur’s, leaving him breathless

“Merlin, wait,” Arthur pants out, “fuck. I thought… I thought you wanted to go slow.”

“You get in my bed half naked and want to go slow?” Merlin asks, eyebrows high on his forehead. “I mean, sure, if that’s what you want, but I figured…”

“You’re demisexual, I thought—”

Merlin laughs, “Okay, that’d be great if we started dating when we met, or two months ago,” he says, and pats Arthur’s cheek, “that’s sweet, but we’ve done slow already.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, and then grins. “Off with your shirt then.”

Merlin grins back, shoving on him a little to lift up his shirt. Arthur pulls back a bit, his hands traveling up the increasingly revealed skin, but when Merlin tugs off the shirt he still gets an elbow in Arthur’s face.

Arthur sits up, cursing under his breath as he rubs at his cheek, the sting unpleasant. “You clumsy fool—” he stops as he glances at Merlin, who’s lying down on the bed again, his pale chest very much there for Arthur to look at, grinning up at him.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Arthur ignores the throb in his face, leaning over Merlin and kissing his jaw. “Try not to do that again, will you?”

“Can’t promise anything,” Merlin says, turning his face to kiss the spot on Arthur’s cheek. “Better?”

“It will do,” Arthur replies, humming as Merlin brushes a thumb over his nipple. He leans down, nudging his nose against Merlin’s jaw to make him tilt his head, and presses his mouth on Merlin’s neck. “You and your damned handkerchiefs,” he mutters against it.

“You and your shoulders,” Merlin replies, his tone offended, but he’s still humming as he tilts his head further to the side to give him some room, his hand deep in Arthur’s hair. His fingers are gentle in his hair, at odds with the roll of his hips, hard and insistent.

Arthur groans, rubbing down on Merlin’s hips, frustrated by the barrier their pants create between them. “You’re clean, right?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, groping his asscheek with a hand, “I mean, haven’t been tested in a while but I did after my last relationship.”

“Good, me too,” Arthur says, and then lifts his hips. Merlin lets out a whine, but it lasts only until Arthur yanks down his own pants and underwear at once, and then Merlin’s hands are quickly scrambling down his own body to do the same, eyes wide as he stares at Arthur’s crotch.

Arthur lets out a shaky breath as his eyes travel down Merlin’s body, fixing on his now fully hard cock. It’s red and long and curved slightly upwards, and Arthur’s mouth waters at the thought of it in his mouth. He leans over Merlin again, panting hard, watching the rise and fall of Merlin’s chest as he breathes with him. “You’re beautiful.”

“Me? I want to punch your stupid face,” Merlin says, hand twisting into Arthur’s hair to pull him into a hard kiss, “it’s not fair.”

“I’m going to pretend that made any sense,” Arthur replies, and then neither is that willing to talk when he moves his hips down, their dicks pressing together. He buries his face in Merlin’s neck, panting into it, moving in time with Merlin, feeling against his lips the vibration of the moan coming out of Merlin’s throat. 

He moans, bucking his hips as Merlin sneaks a hand between them, squeezing their cocks together, and all Arthur can do is buck into the firm grip of his slender fingers, against Merlin’s warm cock, the motions turning smoother with their precum. 

Arthur props himself up on an elbow to give Merlin more room to move, and to watch him, aroused by the sight of Merlin's face flushed, his open, wet mouth, and his eyes dark, filled with hunger and looking straight back at him. The feeling of being strongly in love, as if he’s about to burst with it, surges through his chest as they keep their eyes locked on each other, and it’s all Arthur can do to keep his mouth shut. He does his best to keep the pace of his hips, and uses his free hand to touch Merlin, his hip and his chest, pleased with the moan Merlin lets out when he rubs one of his nipples. Arthur grins, and leans down to mouth at it, the tip of his tongue circling it. 

“Arthur,” Merlin lets out in a groan, his hand faltering. His mouth shapes his name beautifully. 

Arthur presses a kiss on his chest, and scraped his teeth lightly on it, before he makes himself sit up and bats Merlin's hand away. “Off, off now, Merlin.”

“No, come on, you prat,” Merlin grabs his forearm to tug him down, but Arthur ignores it, moving further down the bed until he's facing Merlin's crotch. Merlin makes a small sound, eyes fixed on him, nods quickly. “Oh. I, yes, go ahead.”

Arthur looks down at his cock and resists the urge to take it in his mouth already, settling more comfortably between Merlin's thighs and pressing a kiss on the one on his right. Merlin’s fingers run through Arthur’s hair, pulling him a little closer with a whimper. His skin is warm, flushed and Arthur nuzzles a little into his groin, where he smells strongly of himself and sex. Arthur could stay there forever. 

“Arthur, come on, you clotpole,” Merlin whines, a hand on his hair, the other grabbing on Arthur’s shoulders to pull him in. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Is that the way to talk to the person about to suck you off?” Arthur asks, looking up at him, positioning himself so he’s almost speaking against the head of his cock, a smirk growing on his face as he watches Merlin shudder through it.

“Arthur,” Merlin lets out, his grip on Arthur’s hair tightening, “why are you such a prat?”

“That really isn’t helping you, you know,” Arthur says, sighing loudly, and Merlin whimpers at feel of Arthur’s breath on his dick. “You’re going to have to ask for it nicely now.”

“Suck me off,” Merlin asks, his tone almost pleading.

Arthur grins, “What’s the magic word, Merlin?”

“Suck me off or I’ll turn you into a frog,” Merlin glares down at him, “I do know those magic words.”

“Very funny,” Arthur slowly starts to pull back, “but if that’s how you want to play…”

“Please!” Merlin lets out, “please do it, come on.”

“That’s better,” Arthur grins, moving closer again.

“Yeah, now get on with it, you arrogant, demanding dollop—  _ oh _ ,” Merlin stops mid sentence, eyes fluttering shut as Arthur presses his open mouth around the head of his cock, sucking lightly, his eyes on Merlin’s face. It leaves a sharp taste on his tongue, when Arthur swirls it around the head, inside his mouth. It’s been awhile since he last gave someone head, but Merlin doesn’t seem to mind, making a keening sound as he tugs on Arthur’s hair.

Arthur closes his eyes, one hand pressing on Merlin’s inner thigh, the other down to squeeze his own crotch, far more aroused by the heavy feeling of Merlin’s cock on his tongue than he remembers being while sucking someone off. He hums around it, making Merlin curse out, bucking his hips and forcing himself deeper into Arthur’s mouth, and it manages to both feel uncomfortable and fantastic. Arthur takes him further in, breathing hard through his nose as slacks his jaw as much as he can, and then Merlin’s dick is touching the back of his throat lightly.

“Shit, Arthur,” Merlin lets out shakily, clutching at him, “you’re… you feel so good…”

Arthur hums, pleased, and pulls back just enough to swallow around him, lips stretching further as he smirks slightly, smug at Merlin’s loud moan. He starts a slow pace with his head, still getting used to the feeling, and he can barely focus with the sounds Merlin lets out, the muscles tensing on his inner thigh as Merlin struggles to keep still. His hand moves slowly from his inner thigh to Merlin’s balls, touching them lightly and then squeezing them, making a surprised sound when Merlin curses at him and thrusts up into him.

“You can’t… I’m already close, you prat, if you… fuck,” Merlin groans, tilting his head back for a moment, before his eyes return to Arthur’s, hungry. He pants hard, lips red from where he’s been biting them, the hand in Arthur’s hair shaking slightly as he tries to pet it. 

Arthur hums again, pleased, and keeps his eyes on Merlin’s as he moves his hand downwards, finger brushing between his asscheeks, taking him as deep into his mouth as he can while maintaining eye contact. Merlin opens his mouth further, shaping his lips into an ‘o’ as he shifts his hips slightly, trying to both get in his mouth and press against his finger, letting out a needy sound. Arthur hums around him, circling his entrance with a fingertip and sucking harder on his dick. Merlin moans shakily, his hips moving fast in small movements.

“Arthur, I’m... _ Arthur _ !” Merlin lets out, his grip on Arthur’s hair almost hurtful, and Arthur groans around him, moving faster. He moves his fingertip against Merlin’s rim, pressing slightly in, just as far as he’s sure he can without lube, and he gets a loud moan in return, Merlin coming in his mouth. He pulls back just enough to keep the head in, sucking lightly at it as he waits for Merlin to finish off, still sucking slightly, the salty flavor of cum filling his mouth. He pulls back when Merlin starts to soften, and swallows, doing his best to avoid coughing. When he looks up, Merlin looks blissed out, hand falling limply from Arthur’s head to the bed, and he has a huge grin on his face, eyes soft as they stay on Arthur.

Arthur smiles, pressing a kiss on Merlin’s hip. “Now wasn’t that worth asking for with manners?” he asks, his voice husky.

Merlin hits his shoulder lightly, and then grabs his arm, pulling him up. “Why are you such a prat?” he asks again.

Arthur moves up the bed, lying down next to Merlin, pressed up against his side because the bed is only so big, and there isn’t that much room for more than one person. “You just came in my mouth and you’re insulting me already?”

“I’m not going to stroke your ego,” Merlin mutters, but he’s grinning still, crinkles at the corner of his eyes as he looks at Arthur, cupping his cheek with a hand.

Arthur hesitates for a moment and then says, regretting it already, “It’s not my ego that needs stroking.”

Merlin looks at him wide eyed, and then starts laughing breathlessly, turning on his side and burying his head in Arthur’s chest, the sound of his laughter barely muffled by it. Arthur grins, getting a hand on the back of Merlin’s head and pulling him closer. 

“That was terrible, yes,” Arthur says, and moves his hand to tilt Merlin’s chin up to look at him, “but the point remains. Are you going to get me off?”

Merlin is still chuckling, but he moves up to press his mouth on Arthur’s, not actually kissing him because that would require for him to stop smiling. And laughing. “In a bit. Let me… recover.”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur says, “and do I get a magazine to read while I wait for my turn? Maybe some ambient music? Daytime television?”

“You’re very annoying,” Merlin lets out, but he shifts closer, his forehead touching Arthur’s as he gets a hand between them, closing it around Arthur’s dick.

Arthur lets out a pleased sigh, griping at Merlin’s hip as he starts stroking him slowly. “You really know how to set the mood.”

“Arrogant, entitled clotpole,” Merlin breathes against his mouth, picking up the pace. 

“Merlin, you really— ah, fuck,” he closes his eyes, bucking his hips as Merlin squeezes him, twisting his hand. He feels close already. “This won’t... won’t take long. Faster.”

“Demanding prat,” Merlin lets out, and Arthur surges forward, kissing him hard as Merlin does pick up the pace. Arthur clutches to him, moving in time with Merlin’s hand, the build up quick after waiting so long to be touched. He’s been rock hard ever since he got the taste of Merlin’s cock on his tongue. Merlin rubs the head of his cock with a thumb, pressing on it, and Arthur moans shakily, coming right then, all over Merlin’s hand and his belly.

Arthur makes a small sound as Merlin keeps kissing him, slow and pressing, and he hums into it, leaning closer. He winds an arm around Merlin, and breaks the kiss to pant.

Merlin kisses his cheek, and moves slightly to pull up the covers. He turns to Arthur as he lies down again, “That was brilliant.”

Arthur hums, pressing his mouth along Merlin’s collarbone. “You were alright.”

“I hate you,” Merlin replies, curling against him, throwing a leg over Arthur’s, “you obnoxious idiot.”

“I’m feeling very special,” Arthur hums.

“Really? Didn’t want you to feel better than alright.”

“You’re barely doing that now,” Arthur replies, putting an arm around Merlin to bring him closer.

“Yeah, well, now we’re going to sleep, like proper human beings do during the morning on weekends.”

“You’re right, shouldn’t have woken you up,” Arthur says, “won’t do it again.”

“Shut up and sleep, you prat,” Merlin replies, snuggling close. His eyes flash gold, and suddenly they’re all clean again. Arthur’s pleasantly surprised, but too languid to say it. He closes his eyes, mouth shut and resting on Merlin’s neck. Merlin moves a hand up to his hair, petting it lightly. This time it’s much easier to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Arthur's death day!!!


	31. A Short Cut

Arthur closes the trunk of the car, and walks around it towards Merlin, who’s looking back at him, smiling as he’s been doing ever since they woke up together. Arthur gets close enough to run his fingers through Merlin’s hair, the other going to his hip, turning Merlin to crowd him a bit against the car. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to have lunch with your father?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Merlin says, getting his hands on Arthur’s sides, pulling him closer. “I’ll just have a few words with him and then we’ll leave. If we go soon, maybe we’ll  have lunch in York instead.”

Arthur nods, but he’d have agreed to anything right now, his eyes constantly dropping to Merlin’s mouth. Nothing is stopping him from leaning forward and kissing him, so that’s what he does. He hums into it as Merlin moves his arms around him, and they’re pressed chest to chest, Merlin’s mouth warm and slick against his own. Merlin’s tongue moving slowly into his mouth is a work of art, and Arthur will never admit it gets him a bit weak in the knees, making him press Merlin harder against the car.

“Feel free to do that more often,” Merlin says when they break apart, his face splitting into a grin. “Whenever you feel like it.”

“We’ll see,” Arthur replies as he steps back, but he’s fooling no one. Especially because when Merlin grabs him by the lapels of his jacket, Arthur goes where he’s lead, gladly pulled into another kiss.

Arthur cups Merlin’s cheek with his hand as he slowly pulls back, rubbing his nose lightly against Merlin’s, unable to contain a smile. ”We’ve already wasted too much time sleeping, thanks to you lazy idot. We have to go.”

“It was worth it,” Merlin grins.

“It was a waste of time,” Arthur replies, but he had never felt so content as he had when he woke up with Merlin next to him, snoring into his shoulder and hogging all the covers. “Come on,” he says, pulling back and going around the car to get in the driver’s seat before he’s lured into kissing Merlin again. They have a schedule to stick to. 

Ten minutes later they’re parking by the woods, and Arthur turns off the car, turning to Merlin. “Do you want me to wait here?”

“Not here,” Merlin says,unbuckling his seatbelt, “Can we do like we did yesterday?”

Arthur nods and leaves the car, putting his jacket back on. Merlin comes to his side, and Arthur tries not to smile as he sees that Merlin decided to go with his scarf again, instead of picking one of his own. It’s ridiculous that such a simple thing pleases him so much, but he likes the strong red against Merlin’s neck. They walk side by side down the same path through the woods they did the day before, at ease with the gentle sound of the wind through the trees, and of some birds chirping. It’s been years since he’s last done it, but Arthur gets the urge to go camping again.

“We’re going camping next weekend,” he says, breaking the silence.

“What? No,” Merlin says, “it’s cold and uncomfortable and I bet you’ll make me do all the work.”

“Don’t be such a baby, Merlin,” Arthur bumps his shoulder on Merlin’s. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t see you denying any of my complaints,” Merlin replies.

“Because it’s all true,” Arthur says, swinging an arm over Merlin’s shoulders, “but it’d still be fun. Commune with nature and make a fire,” he pauses for a moment, and pulls Merlin closer, “keep each other warm.”

“We can do that on a bed,” Merlin replies.

“And you can use your powers to make everything easier,” Arthur adds, turning to him, “you could heat up a tent all on your own with a wave of your wand.”

“I don’t know if that was supposed to be an innuendo, but I hope not. That was terrible.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Arthur shakes him a little by the arm around his shoulders, “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin.”

“You’re the one who said it!”

“You’re the one who thought it,” Arthur replies. “In any case, what matters is that your complaints are null, because you can just magic them away.”

Merlin sighs, turning to look at him. “Fine. One night.”

Arthur smiles, pleased, his step a bit lighter as they follow down the path. When they’re about to reach Balinor’s cabin, Arthur lets go of Merlin, hands going into his jacket pockets as he watches him go further ahead to meet his father. Arthur ends up checking his emails on his phone while he waits, and hesitates for a moment, before he calls his sister.

“What do you want now? Are you going to France for a week this time? How kind of you to warn me,” Morgana starts as soon as she picks up the call.

Arthur sighs, pacing a bit down the path, further away from Merlin, “Why are you always so angry? I called to warn you I’m coming home today, so—”

“Dinner tonight with Uther and Catrina,” Morgana says right away. “Good, they’ll—”

“No,” Arthur says, “I’ll be home late. Something for tomorrow. Dinner, preferably.” 

“Arthur, you can’t possibly—”

“I’m busy until then, Morgana,” Arthur says, not wanting to elaborate any further. He hasn’t even asked Merlin, but he’d rather spend another night with him, and the last thing he needs is their time cut short because Morgana wants to prove some silly theory about their father. “If it must be, lunch tomorrow, but I’d rather do dinner.”

“What are you so busy doing if you’re coming back tonight?” Morgana asks.

“Merlin and I have some things to do that are none of your business.”

“What are you doing with him across the country, Arthur?” Morgana asks.

“Some personal matter of his,” Arthur says. “He’ll probably tell you about it.”

“And that matter is going to have you busy tonight?”

“No,” Arthur laughs. He pauses for a moment, a grin showing on his face despite himself, “We got together.”

There’s a small pause, before Morgana speaks. “What?”

“I kissed him this morning, and—”

“You  _ what? _ ” Morgana interrupts him. “Did you really have to go all the way up north to do that? We should be celebrating!”

Arthur tilts down his head, bashful, “Well. Merlin and I are going to do that, I’m sure.”

“Arthur!” Morgana lets out, in a mixture of giddy shock and repulsiveness, “I really don’t need those kind of details.”

Arthur laughs, head thrown back, a warm feeling fluttering in his chest. “That was the least detailed version I could tell, Morgana.”

“No, to me that’s more than enough,” she pauses, and then says, her voice gentle, “I’m really happy for you, brother.”

Arthur smiles, something easing in him. She’s the first person he thought to call and tell, and he couldn’t think of waiting until Sunday to do it. He wants to share with Morgana, and he wants her to know, and it’s good that he can do that, after all that has happened. He’s glad that he can feel that. “I am too,” he admits easily.

“Now pass the phone to Merlin, he’s sure to tell me exactly how it went,” Morgana demands.

“He’s busy,” Arthur says, glancing over his shoulder to the path that’d lead him to Merlin.

“Arthur, don’t tell me you called me in the middle of—”

“God, Morgana, why would I ever do that? Get your mind out of the gutter,” Arthur says, a blush growing on his cheeks, “I told you he had things to do. He’s not with me right now.”

“Alright, I’ll call him then—”

“He’s  _ busy _ ,” Arthur says again, “he can’t answer right now.”

“Fine, then you’ll have to do, I suppose,” Morgana sighs, “did you talk to him? About your feelings?”

“...No…” Arthur says, frowning a bit. “Seemed a bit redundant.”

“Redundant? Arthur, how is telling Merlin you’re in love with him redundant?”

“Because he obviously knows by now.”

“Does he?” Morgana replies, “and did he tell you that? Or that he feels the same?”

“No, but we’re going camping next weekend,” Arthur says.

“Oh, well, if you’re camping, then by all means!” Morgana lets out, “Arthur, honestly.”

“We’re fine,” Arthur says, “things are good.”

“I sure hope they are,” Morgana says, “it’s about time.”

Merlin shows up then, and Arthur turns around to face with with a smile. “They are,” he says. “I have to go now.”

Merlin comes up to his side, grabbing his arm, and Arthur presses a kiss on the side of his head, a bit behind his ear. 

“Is it Merlin? Pass him the phone.”

Arthur looks at Merlin, pensive. “No, we’ll call you later.”

“Arthur!”

“Talk to you soon, Morgana.” Arthur says, and hangs up. Merlin raises an eyebrow at him. “I told her about us.”

Merlin grins, “Yeah?”

“She’s going to be unbearable,” Arthur says, and Merlin leans in to give him a quick kiss.

“Then you can deal with that on your own.”

“What? You’re in this too, Merlin.”

“She’s your sister,” Merlin replies, tugging him down the path.

Arthur walks with him, “So? She’s your friend. She introduced us,” he pauses as he realizes what he’s said, and groans.

“She’s going to be very smug,” Merlin says, pressing against his side.

“She really is,” Arthur agrees. He glances at Merlin, a smile tugging on his lips. “I suppose it’s something I can bear, given the circumstances.”

Merlin turns to look at him, smiling wide, “Yeah, I don’t know if you’re worth it.”

Arthur pulls him in with an arm around his neck, rubbing at the top of Merlin’s hair. “Idiot.”

Merlin laughs as he struggles free, grinning at him. “Prat.”

Arthur keeps an arm over his shoulders as they go back towards the car, a pleasant feeling settling over him. “We don’t have to talk about feelings, do we, Merlin?”

“No?” Merlin looks at him, frowning a bit in confusion, “I think we’re fine.”

“Good.” Arthur says, with a nod. They’re in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “I am in love with you, god knows why.”

“You old romantic,” Merlin says, but his voice wavers, smile wide on his face. “I know now why they say love is blind.”

Arthur laughs, “Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t like you at all, would I?”

Merlin shoves a bit against him, laughing. “You clotpole. I don’t know why I put up with you.” he pauses, and then says, nudging him lightly. “But, yeah, I feel the same. About you! I’m not in love with myself. I am with you. For some reason.”

“Easy there, Don Juan,” Arthur says, grinning, “And you call me romantic? I’m not sure I can handle all that thrown at me.”

“God, you’re such a prat,” Merlin says, sighing, but he sounds fond.

Arthur turns his head, nuzzling his nose lightly in Merlin’s hair, a smile stuck to his face. They follow down the path out of the woods, car in sight again. “How did it go with your father?”

“I gave him my number,” Merlin says, his smile fading a bit, “he doesn’t have a phone, but he says he’d call. Told him where he could visit me at London, if he wants to.”

“And you can come back here, if you want to see him,” Arthur reminds him.

“I got the feeling he’s moving away, now that he’s been found.”

“Oh,” Arthur says. “Then he knows how to find you.”

“Yeah. That should be enough.”

They get in the car, Arthur insisting on driving, and they leave the woods. It’s a pleasant journey as they go South, the car warm, the volume of the radio down, and Merlin keeps reaching out with his hand to touch Arthur where he can, his shoulder, his hair, his leg, his hand at one point. Whenever Arthur meets his eye they both grin, and it’s good, it’s really good.

Arthur’s phone rings around an hour later, and he hands it over to Merlin. “I bet it's Morgana, answer it.”

Merlin does so, putting her on speakers. “Hi, Morgana!”

“Merlin!” she lets out, gleeful, “Good, I wanted to reach you, but Arthur made it sound like calling you wasn’t a good idea.”

“It wasn’t at the time,” Arthur says.

“Am I on speaker? Merlin, I want a private conversation.”

“We’re in a car for a few more hours, he’s not getting much privacy,” Arthur says.

“Then take me off speaker, that should work.”

Merlin shares a look with Arthur, but does as told, holding the phone to his ear, glancing out of the window as he listens to her. Arthur’s awfully curious, but he leaves it be. Morgana can’t be saying anything too embarrassing, and Merlin will mock him either way, so it shouldn’t make too much difference. He does smile, fondly, as Merlin sputters, ridiculous sentences out of context, waving his arm around as he speaks, cheeks growing red.

“Alright, I will! Bye,” Merlin says as he finally hangs up.

“Do I want to know what just happened?” Arthur asks, amused.

“No, not really. You’re fine.” Merlin says, squirming a bit on his seat.

“Good.”

They go back to driving in silence, but Arthur keeps smiling as he feels Merlin’s eye on him. Arthur sneaks glances at him often, and it’s hard to focus on the road when he thinks back on their morning, of Merlin more than close enough to kiss.

“I’m glad we came,” Merlin says, as they reach York. 

“Even if your father is a paranoid woodsman?”

Merlin chuckles a bit, but smiles, “Yeah. I hope he visits. I want to know what’s it like to have a father.”

Arthur nods. “Good. I hope he goes to you, then.”

They lunch at a small place in York, paying more than Arthur had expected, but he’s too hungry to really care about it. Merlin holds his hand when they leave the place, guiding him towards the castle. Arthur isn’t really one for handholding, but he lets Merlin lead him away, his palm warm against Arthur’s. It’s alright.

“You’re staying over my place tonight,” Arthur says, glancing at him.

Merlin grins, “I am?””

“You are.”

“I don’t see why not,” Merlin replies, squeezing his hand.

Arthur chuckles, shifting a bit closer to him. They walk in silence for a while, following the signs leading up to the castle.

He’s glad they didn’t go for the jump scare attraction, because the tour of the castle turns out to be very interesting. They get information on what happened over the time, there are people in costumes acting out scenes. He’d be more focused on it if Merlin didn’t keep touching Arthur, casually, seemingly innocent, and it’s all Arthur can do to tune into the guide and listen about the defense strategies of the castle. After a while he manages to get back on track, excited as they see the dungeons, and then he’s the one leading Merlin towards the medieval stocks, grinning at the display of fruit baskets by it.

He touches the wood lightly, turning to Merlin, “We should get one of those for you.”

“Very naughty of you, sir knight,” Merlin replies, stepping up to his side.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Arthur says, trying not to laugh,” it was terrible and not at all what I had intended.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” Merlin says.

Arthur clasps a hand on the back of Merlin’s neck, leading him away, “I really don’t know what I keep you around for.”

“Better not be to throw rotten fruit at.”

“You’re no fun, Merlin,” Arthur says, but he kisses his temple lightly as they’re led away, to the end of the tour. 

They argue about who gets to drive this time, and Arthur shouldn’t have pushed to do so when they left the woods before lunch, because now it’s Merlin’s turn, and it’s a four hour drive back to London. Arthur could make it in three, but Merlin keeps to the speeding limits, glancing at him with a smirk from time it time.

“You’re hopeless, Merlin,” Arthur says, leaning back against his headrest. 

“Oops, sorry, you’re right,” Merlin says, slowing down the car, “that was too close to the speed limit, I should keep that in mind.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says in warning, but Merlin’s only reply is to slow down even further. “Next stop we’re trading places if you keep this up.”

“In a hurry?”

“Aren’t you?”

Merlin glances at him, and smiles wide. “You have lube and condoms at home, right?”

Arthur turns to look at Merlin, eyes wide , his heart suddenly pounding in his ears . “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Merlin’s smile is cocky when he replies, “Good.”

Then he turns to look ahead at the road, apparently with no intentions of speeding up again. Arthur is about to order him to speed up when a tapping sound is heard on the ceiling of the car, water drops falling onto the front window. Suddenly it’s raining heavily, and Arthur groans, slipping back in his seat as Merlin slows down even further. 

“You can never be too careful in the rain,” he says cheerfully. 

Arthur wants to kill him, the journey dragging on and on against his will. He’s never going on a trip with Merlin again, that’s for sure.


	32. Of Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a fair warning: this chapter is just fucking banter (;

Arthur barely waits until the lift’s door closes before he’s pressing Merlin against the wall, kissing him hard. Merlin’s hands scramble along his back, clutching to it and pulling him close. Arthur licks his way into Merlin’s mouth, his own hands finding their way inside Merlin’s shirt and jacket. Merlin gets a hand deep in his hair, humming, and Arthur fits between his legs, slowly rubbing against him, and it’s good to know he wasn’t the only one in expectation, if Merlin’s hardening dick, pressing against Arthur’s hip through the layers of their clothes, tells anything.

“You useless idiot,” he says when he pulls back, hand on Merlin’s wrist to tug him out of the lift, “we could be doing this two hours ago if you weren’t such a lousy driver.”

“I was within the limits!” Merlin says, laughing, but his hand just managed to get under the layers of clothes Arthur is wearing, and it feels more than pleasant against his hip.

Arthur shakes his head, stopping to unlock his door. They stumble inside, and Arthur closes the door loudly, turning to Merlin as he takes off his jacket. “What are you waiting for? Clothes off!”

Merlin laughs, moving in to kiss him as he takes off his shoes. It’s not a good idea, as Merlin loses his balance, hitting their foreheads together when he stumbles forward. Arthur catches him, hands on his shoulders, and pushes him away. “Clothes first, then the rest,” he says, and raises a hand to rub at his forehead. “We don’t need any more accidents.”

“Good luck with that,” Merlin says cheerfully, but he does as told, and then it doesn’t take much until they’re both naked. Arthur eyes Merlin up, his cock thickening at the sight, Merlin himself more than half aroused, and he loops an arm around Merlin’s waist, pulling him in to kiss him again. He moans softly into the kiss, Merlin’s hands on his lower back as he rubs their cocks together. Merlin’s tongue slides slowly against Arthur’s lips, making him open his mouth with a pant. He grins into the kiss when his hand curls against one of Merlin’s asscheeks, squeezing it.

He jumps when Merlin pinches his ass, and he swats his hands away. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, trying to sound disapproving, but it comes out more in awe that he’d like. His eyes are drinking in the sight that is Merlin, naked, hard and wanting him, and before he can reply, Arthur is pushing him into his bedroom.

Merlin gets on the bed, crawling backwards on it, and Arthur falls on top of him without a second thought, hand closing around Merlin’s dick and tugging on it, his breath leaving in shudders at Merlin’s moan. He reluctantly pulls his hand away, presses himself against Merlin, cocks rubbing together as he rolls his hips. He mouths at Merlin’s neck, sucking on his adam’s apple, nibbling at the pale skin where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“Arthur,” Merlin lets out, moving against him, each thrust of his hips clearing Arthur’s mind. “You said you got the stuff?”

Arthur sits up, back on his heels, and leans over to reach his bedside table, opening the second drawer where he keeps his supplies. Merlin pushes himself up, sitting on the bed as well as he watches him. 

Arthur presses the bottle of lube into Merlin’s hand, panting hard as he tries to keep his head clear. “Well?” he asks, as Merlin holds it instinctively, but stops to stare at Arthur in confusion, “get to work!”

“Figures you’d be a lazy pompous ass in bed too,” Merlin finally comes back to himself, leaning back to sit on his knees as he opens the lube and pours it onto his fingers, “making me do all the work.”

“If it bothers you that much,  _ Merlin _ ,” Arthur replies, holding out his hand, “I can get myself ready instead. Of course I have to do everything myself.” He reaches for the lube, “come on, hand it over now, if you’re going to do nothing but watch until you get to shag me, you useless idiot.”

Merlin makes a squeaky sound, the bottle slipping from his fingers and falling onto the bed. “What? Arthur— fuck,” his pupils are blown wide, a flush creeping up Merlin’s face as he moves closer, moving his hands all over Arthur’s chest and face as he presses their mouths together, as if he wasn’t spreading lube all over Arthur’s skin. “Fuck,  _ Arthur... _ ”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says, his tone almost as patronising as he wants it to be, his voice wavering as Merlin curls his lubed hand around Arthur’s cock, giving it a quick tug, “that’s sort of the point.” 

“ _ Oh God _ ,” Merlin lets out in a breath, his grip on Arthur tightening, “shit, I didn’t think…”

Arthur lets out a sound before he can stop himself, hips bucking forward into Merlin’s hand. “If you don’t want to..”

“No, I do! Fuck, Arthur, yeah, I do, I do!” 

“Then get on with it already, Merlin, I haven’t got all day!”

“Oh god,” Merlin repeats as he pulls back again to look for the lube, his tone more exasperated this time, reluctantly turning his head away from Arthur. “I just knew you couldn’t stop ordering me around as if—”

Merlin drops the bottle again as he looks back at him, eyes roaming over Arthur’s form, who has taken the time to lie on his back and spread his legs, arm underneath his head so he can keep his eyes on Merlin.

“Well?” Arthur raises an eyebrow, moving a thumb slowly across his own cheek to take off the lube Merlin had smeared all over it, which was starting to feel unpleasantly cold.

“Shit, I...” Merlin ducks his head quickly to grab the bottle again, yelping as his forehead hits Arthur’s knee. He sits up quickly again, lube now on Merlin’s forehead as he rubs it. “I’m okay! ‘M fine!”

Arthur is laughing as he props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the sting on his knee. “It’s a wonder you haven’t managed to fall off the bed yet.”

“You are such a prat,” Merlin grabs the bottle for a third time, finally managing to get more lube on his fingers, his whole body shaking as he laughs as well, and Arthur’s eyes are dragged to his dick, mouth watering as he sees it bob with his movements. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Believe me, Merlin, the feeling is mutual,” Arthur says, “now hurry up, will you?”

Merlin doesn’t reply, his hand finally moving to brush against his balls as it goes lower, drawing a moan out of Arthur as he lightly touches his entrance, the feel of his fingers soft and hesitant, making him eager to have them inside him. “Arthur, are you sure..?”

“Merlin, I swear to God, if you don’t get started already I will murder you.”

Merlin presses a finger in, and Arthur grips the headboard of the bed, spreading his legs further. Merlin’s eyes are all over him, as he starts moving his finger slowly, the intrusion careful and pleasant, and Arthur hits his side with a foot.

“Didn’t I tell you to hurry up, Merlin?”

“Prat,” Merlin mutters, eyes fixed between Arthur’s legs as he leans forward.

The second finger feels fantastic, burning slightly as Merlin drags his fingers further in, spreading them slightly apart, and Arthur notices that Merlin hasn’t shut up, his mouth moving against the inner side of Arthur’s knee, babbling away as he moves his fingers harder.

“Arthur, you’re… god, you’re brilliant, beautiful, just look at you,” Merlin’s voice goes deeper as he speaks, shakier, and it’s pulling at something in his chest Arthur doesn’t have the head to acknowledge at the moment. “Arthur, Arthur…”

Arthur curls a hand on Merlin’s hair, fingers pressing on his scalp as he forces Merlin’s head down. “Suck my cock, Merlin,” he demands, his voice wavering as Merlin’s fingers brush his prostate, making him buck his hips off his bed, “you’re being rude, not giving it enough attention.”

“I’ll show you rude,” Merlin mutters, but he obeys anyway, mouth pressing eagerly to his length, lapping up his cock with his tongue, and Arthur gets impossibly harder at the sight, moaning shakily as Merlin closes his lips around the head, sucking lightly. Arthur’s so distracted by the feeling of Merlin’s wet mouth that he almost doesn’t notice the third finger going in. He pulls on Merlin’s head, making him take Arthur’s cock deeper into his mouth, and he can’t get enough of the sight of Merlin’s lips around it, his sharp cheekbones as he sucks, his hungry eyes that stare at Arthur from underneath his long lashes, doing exactly as Arthur pleases.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back as Merlin presses his tongue against his slit, curling his fingers inside of him. Merlin makes an obscene, wet sound with his mouth as he pulls back, lips dragging over his cock, and Arthur lets out a whine.

“Done complaining?” Merlin asks with a grin, his lips red and glistening, pressing them against the base of his cock as if he can’t help himself.

Arthur makes another sound, taking a few deep breaths until he manages to speak again, his mind cloudy with the drag of Merlin’s fingers inside him, his breath against Arthur’s crotch, “Did I tell you to stop?”

“Didn’t think you were able to say much,” Merlin presses his fingers deeper, making Arthur lose his breath.

Arthur considers ordering Merlin to go back to what he was doing, but he rolls his hips instead, “Telling you now to hurry up, Merlin.” He still pulls on Merlin’s head, making him rub his mouth against Arthur’s cock, and he watches as Merlin opens his mouth to it, letting out a moan of his own as his bottom lip drags against his length. “Get a condom,” Arthur says as firmly as he can, too aroused by the sight to hold on for much longer, “second drawer.”

Merlin looks up at him, his fingers stilling inside him. “You sure?”

“Wouldn’t tell you to do it if I wasn’t, would I, Merlin?” Arthur replies, “go on!”

Merlin slowly pulls out his fingers, making Arthur clench his ass around nothing, watching as Merlin leans off the bed to reach the drawer. His eyes roam over his naked skin, his perky ass, and Arthur grins, lifting a leg and pressing a foot against Merlin’s hip, pushing him off the bed. Merlin yelps as he reaches the floor, and Arthur laughs as Merlin sputters some curses, getting up. He falls over again, still tangled to the sheets, and Arthur can’t help but to laugh louder, head thrown back.

“You alright there, Merlin?” Arthur asks, laughing still as he’s hit in the face with the condom wrapper.

Merlin crawls back into bed, Arthur watches him put the condom on, his own legs moving further apart unconsciously, and Merlin moves to stand on his knees between them, laughter fading as they look at each other.

“Fetch me a pillow,” Arthur says.

Merlin does so, and Arthur lifts his hips, back arching off the bed so Merlin can put the pillow underneath him. He pats the pillow lightly, his hand moving from it to curl around Arthur’s asscheek, moving slowly to his thigh. “Anything else?” His tone isn’t exactly compliant. 

“Get inside me.” Arthur orders.

“This isn’t fair,” Merlin mutters as he gets between his legs again, positioning himself, “you can’t keep being that much of a prat and turning me on at the same time.”

“Tough luck, Merlin,” Arthur hooks a leg around him, his heel pressing on the end of Merlin’s back. “Now, didn’t I just tell you to get inside me? What are you waiting for?”

Merlin gets a hand on his hip, the other curled around the base of his own cock as he slowly starts to press in. “Annoying, bossy, pompous clotpole..” he lets out as he slowly sinks in, and Arthur is only half listening, as he’s stretched beyond what Merlin’s fingers had done, his breath still in his chest as he starts to feel so full. “Spoilt prat,” Merlin continues, sounding a bit breathless himself. “dollophead.”

They’re both shaking slightly as Merlin stops, fully in, leaning forward to pant against Arthur’s chest. “...toad faced monkey.”

Arthur chuckles a bit breathlessly. “Idiot.”

“Prat,” Merlin kisses his neck.

“Give me...” Arthur tells him, head tilting back, eyes closed as he adjusts to the feeling of fullness. It has been a long, long time since he’s let anyone fuck him. “...give me a moment.”

“Sure thing,” Merlin gives his jaw wet kiss, his weight pressing on Arthur’s chest, since the idiot thinks one elbow is enough to support himself up. “As long as you need.”

Arthur hums in reply, taking deep breaths through his nose, getting ready as he feels the warmth of Merlin over him, inside him, Merlin’s hand moving slowly on his side, his mouth mapping at his neck, until he abruptly lifts himself a bit, propped up with an elbow on either side of Arthur’s head.

“So,” Merlin says, “the weather’s been quite dreadful, hasn’t it?”

“...What on Earth are you talking about?” Arthur opens his eyes to see Merlin grin at him.

“Figured we could make conversation as we wait,” Merlin explains.

“You have your dick up my ass and you want to talk about the weather?” Arthur asks, eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Well, it’s been raining cats and dogs.” 

Merlin only manages to keep a straight face for a moment, before he’s cracking a grin, laughing, and Arthur can’t help but to do the same, a warm feeling curling on his chest as he wraps his arms around Merlin’s back, pulling him closer. He can feel Merlin’s puffs of air as he laughs against his shoulder, can feel his cock inside him rubbing pleasantly as Arthur moves with laughter, and he’s never felt quite like this with sex before, he didn’t know you could be this relaxed, could actually laugh during it, and it feels wonderful. Merlin feels wonderful.

Merlin is wonderful.

Arthur noses at the top of Merlin’s head, hair tickling his face. “Is this some kink I should know about?”

“What? No!”

“No need to be shy, Merlin,” Arthur grins, before purring, “it’s raining  _ so hard _ outside, Merlin… can’t you hear the water  _ pounding  _ against the windows?”

Merlin’s shoulders shake as he laughs, pressing a hand to Arthur’s face to push him away. “Oh my god, shut up! I hate you, you stupid prat!”

“Hmm,” Arthur grins against Merlin’s fingers, “you really know how to set the mood.”

Merlin lets out an offended sound, as he wriggles a hand between them and touches Arthur’s dick, “God, I hate you more than anything in entire world.”

“Way to… hm,” Arthur’s eyes flutter close for a moment, a smile stretching across his face as Merlin strokes him slowly, “way to make a bloke feel special.”

Merlin’s mouthing his jaw again, and Arthur can feel the strain in Merlin’s back under Arthur’s hand, to hold himself still, Merlin’s hand curling on the sheets next to them. “Arthur…”

“Want to move?” Arthur asks, his hand down Merlin’s back to cup his ass.

“Yeah. Can I?” Merlin licks at the corner of his mouth.

“No.”

“Didn’t think it’d take this long” Merlin cups his cheek. “You alright?”

Arthur is a bit surprised, touched, pressing against his hand, but that’s not stopping him. “I’m fine. Ready for a while now, but you don’t get to fuck me just yet.” 

He’s more than fine, very eager to get this going, Merlin’s hand on his dick slow and steady and not enough when he has a cock inside him just waiting to fuck him. 

“What? Then—”

“You’re not moving until you ask nicely.” Arthur tells him, trying not to give in to his own urge to move. He clenches around his dick, and Merlin groans, pressing his mouth on Arthur’s shoulder, tense as he forces himself to stay still. It’s beautiful, Merlin’s restraint, his obedience.

“...Can I move?” Merlin asks, squeezing Arthur’s cock, forcing a sound out of his throat.

“I said… nicely.”

“This again? I hate you. Let me...”

“Apologise for insulting me,” Arthur says, moving his hips a little, both to tease Merlin and because he can’t help himself, humming at the sensation of Merlin inside him as he rolls his hips.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin lets out, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his mouth, his control obviously slipping, “sorry, you’re… you’re a prat, but I’m sorry. ...Please?” he asks through gritted teeth, his voice dragging out as if the word is too much for him. Arthur loves it.

He cups Merlin’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone with a thumb. “Good. Was that so bad?”

“You’re an asshole.” Merlin says, but he’s nuzzling into Arthur’s palm, so he figures he didn’t push him too hard.

“You never learn do you, Merlin?” he asks, his voice far more tender than he intended it to be. “Move.”

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin breathes out, and then he’s doing as he’s told, slowly at first, panting hard against Arthur’s mouth, clutching to him, and the drag of his cock inside him is clouding Arthur’s mind, pulling sounds from him with each thrust. He plants a foot on the bed, pushing his hips to meet each thrust, and Merlin is babbling again between moans, insults and terms of endearment, and Arthur clutches to him, trying to shift his angle slightly.

“I… aah… fuck, Merlin... Harder,” he manages to order between moans, “ _ now _ , Merlin...”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin lets out, and they both freeze for a moment, staring wide eyed at each other.

A hunger like the kind he never had before fills Arthur, pushing himself harder into Merlin’s cock. Merlin grasps at his hips, just as needy, and starts pounding into him, his balls slapping against his skin as he picks up the pace, hard and fast, burning and incredible as he finally hits his prostate. Arthur gets louder, his back arching as he does his best to move with him, and his mind feels miles away. He clutches at Merlin’s hair with one hand, the other wrapped around his own dick as he matches Merlin’s pace. Merlin moans brokenly against his neck, hips snapping fast, his name forced out his mouth with each breath “Arthur, Arthur, aah, Arthur..”

Heat coils around his middle, his body shaking, and Arthur isn’t in control of himself as he tries to pick up the pace, pulling Merlin closer against him, almost at his limit. “I’m… Merlin…”

“Yes… yes, please… Arthur...” Merlin gets a hand over Arthur’s, helping him jerk faster, and Arthur only holds on for a few more thrusts before he’s coming all over their hands, moaning shakily, and Merlin follows him right away, pressing deep into him and letting out Arthur’s name in broken moans.

Arthur curls his arms around Merlin, as heavy as they feel, and Merlin hums, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, pressing closer. Arthur feels both heavy and incredibly light, his body buzzing as he starts to feel sleepy, and nothing can take the grin off his face. He pets Merlin’s hair slowly, and is rewarded with kisses pressed into his neck and jaw, before Merlin lifts himself up enough to kiss him properly, deep and all tongue and feelings. Arthur lets himself melt into it, seeking the warmth of Merlin’s mouth with his tongue, and tightening his hold on Merlin for a moment.

Merlin breaks the kiss, grinning at him, and slowly pulls out of him, making Arthur wince at the loss. He kisses Arthur’s brow and sits up, taking off the condom and tying it up.

“Bathroom,” Arthur tells him, “fetch me a towel.”

Merlin only grins at him, before looking around the bedroom, locating the paper bin and throwing the condom at it. He misses, wincing slightly but not looking actually sorry for it.

“Idiot,” Arthur mutters, pulling him down into his arms again, cleaning his hand on Merlin’s back as punishment, “can’t you just do as you’re told?”

“Now where would be the fun in that?” Merlin snuggles against him, pressing a kiss on his cheek, not very bothered by the cum smeared on his lower back.

“You seemed to enjoy it just now,” Arthur replies, rubbing his cheek on Merlin’s, his hands moving slowly on his back.

“Yeah,” Merlin lets out, “I’d never— I did. So did you.”

“Yes,” Arthur’s fingers brush the end of Merlin’s hair at his neck, “I never did that, before.”

“Really? I thought—”

“No, it’s—” Arthur hesitates, not knowing how to explain it. “...there’s something about you, Merlin. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Merlin grins, cupping his cheek and giving him a hard kiss. “Yeah,” he says against his mouth, “I know just what you mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made some fake magazine articles for the fic, in case you're interested in checking those out [[x](http://lordvoldemortsnipple.tumblr.com/post/155450803414)]


	33. The Battle of the Small Armies

Arthur realizes a bit too late that meeting his family at Excalibur might be a bad idea. He hadn’t thought much of it when Catrina suggested meeting up there, thankful for a reason to not miss even more work. She had never been there before, and it’s been a long time since Uther last visited it. But Arthur might have forgotten that Merlin would be performing that night, and hadn’t warned him at all.

Arthur’s eyes are on stage when they arrive, unable to look elsewhere while Merlin is performing on stage. With a wild gesture, his white rabbit appears on stage, and Arthur could hit himself. Of course Aithusa didn’t just look like Dragoon’s white rabbit, it was the exact same, and he had just dismissed it. Merlin didn’t try that hard to hide it from him, in the end, and while that’s a good point for Merlin, it doesn’t say much regarding Arthur. Too trusting, maybe, as Morgana always calls him.

“She looks cute, doesn’t she? The little bugger tries to chew through every wire I have at home though,” Merlin pets Aithusa, rubbing behind her ears and, after a sheepish look to the audience, with an embarrassed smile, he kisses the top of her head. Some cooing is heard, but midway through it, Merlin grins, and throws the rabbit into the air. The audience gasps in shock, Arthur himself, leaning forward, eyes wide despite the fact he knows Merlin has everything under control. And he does, his eyes closing as he opens his arms wide, and Aithusa hovers down slowly to the floor, raising itself onto its back paws for a moment, as if she’d like to be up in the air again. The poor thing probably does it often enough to be used to it, since she’s Merlin’s pet.

“But apparently I can't just get rid of her no matter what!” Merlin says, with a loud sigh, and picks her up again. 

The chair next to Arthur’s is pulled, and he misses Merlin’s next trick as he turns to see who it is. Morgana sits down beside him, having brought with her their father and Catrina. “Uther got lost on his way here, can you imagine?” she says, before turning to give her father an amused look, as he sits down beside her. “I had to lead them myself.”

“Hello father, Catrina,” Arthur says, only years under his father’s tutoring stopping him from glancing back at the stage. “How are you?”

They’re both looking tan, and Catrina, as much as it pains Arthur to give his sister any credit, is fatter than she was since he saw her last. He feels bad for noticing, because he truly could care less about her weight, if it weren’t for Morgana’s theories. He turns to look at his father, freezing at his cold, distant look, the disdain on his face as he watches the stage.

Arthur turns slowly to look at it, where Merlin actually pulls from one of his ears a long, black magic wand, fitting of every magician stereotype, down to the white tip. Arthur knows for sure that Merlin is doing it just to annoy him, and on any other occasion he'd try to pass as exasperated while secretly amused. But his father is right there and Merlin just pulled out a magic wand. It’s not his fault, Arthur really should have warned him that his father would be here. How could he let this slip through his planning?

“Merlin is trying to be funny,” Arthur says, turning to his father. Morgana shifts a bit closer. “Because I keep telling him to not do stuff like this.”

“Merlin,” Uther frowns, as he realizes who exactly is performing, “this is your... boyfriend on stage.”

Arthur sits a bit straighter. “Yes.”  

“As a magician.”

Arthur feels the need to defend himself, excuses and explications running through his mind, the words needed to blame Morgana on the tip of his tongue. All because his father is turning his disapproving look from Merlin on stage to Arthur. Arthur hates disappointing him.

“He’s rather good at it,” Arthur says, “his performances are incredible and the audience loves him.” 

“He’s juggling eggs,” Uther replies coldly.

Arthur turns quickly to look at the stage, and there he is, magic wand held behind his ear, and in fact juggling three eggs. He couldn’t have done this one before, and perform now the thing he did ten minutes earlier with the box holding fairy like lights. No, now he’s juggling, as if Arthur’s father didn’t think of magicians as a circus as it is. To his credit, Merlin does pull a hand back to grab his wand again, and somehow keeps juggling with only one hand as if he were still using two. He starts walking across the stage, pulling back his free hand to rub at the top of his hair, the eggs now be juggled all by themselves. 

“You know,” he says, tapping his foot on the ground as he looks at the eggs, still moving by themselves. “I was never really good at juggling. Bit too clumsy for it.”

He holds out a hand, and the eggs fly fast into it, disappearing once they hit his palm. He bows down to the audience, and then goes back to the center of the stage for his next trick. Arthur turns to face his father.

"I've never seen anything like his shows."

"Of course you haven't," Uther replies, "I raised you right. Which is why I don't understand this. You're clearly infatuated with the boy, Arthur, but that should not cloud your judgment. This is a disgrace to your name. Do you want Excalibur to be associated with this sort of thing?"

"I want it to be associated with good performances," Arthur replies, "and Merlin is good."

"He really is," Morgana says firmly, joining in, "you won't find another like him."

Arthur glances at the stage, where Merlin is pulling fire out of a candle with his hands, the flame rising up and increasing in size as it leaves the candle. "Look at him, father. The club is filled with clients, and everyone has their eyes on him."

"And the numbers don't lie," Morgana says, "profit increases when he's on stage, we have more clients, more bookings—"

"This isn't a matter of money," Uther says firmly, "it's a matter of art. Of what you stand for. Parlor tricks and circus people," he says with a sneer, "of course they bring in the masses, but it doesn't make them good. It’s our job to promote the actual arts, to educate the audience, to teach them what is good. This goes against everything we've worked for."

"It doesn't change anything," Arthur says, "it only opens our options. There is good quality in different kind of performances, you just have to find them. Merlin is good at what he does—"

"I'm sure he is," Uther says coldly, getting up, "but this isn't the place for it. I'll talk to you again when you come to your senses."

"Father," Arthur gets up, frowning a bit, something constricting in his chest.

Uther just waves a hand in dismissal, letting Catrina take his arm. “You know better than this, Arthur,” he says, and then they're off, getting out of the club. Arthur watches them go, hands on the table, and then sits down again, pinching the bridge of his nose. Uther wasn’t there for even ten minutes.

"I didn't know you enjoyed Merlin's show that much," Morgana says a bit smugly, as if their father hadn't just left, incredibly let down by them.

"It's alright," Arthur says, with a sigh, "I just wanted father to give it a chance."

"Much like you did when Merlin began to perform?"

Arthur looks away, a sour taste in his mouth. She's right, of course. A lot of what his father just told them is what Arthur kept saying at the beginning, and now he understands what Morgana said about having to listen to Uther through him. 

"Maybe that's a good sign, then," Arthur says, "it took me a while too, but I encouraged Merlin to return to our stage. If he could change my mind, then maybe he can change father's too."

“I don’t know, Arthur,” Morgana says, “you did alright, but he’s a bit thick.”

Arthur frowns, not liking the comparison, or the insult to their father. "Morgana."

"He's been set in his ways for longer than you and I work in this area," Morgana says, "I doubt it's now that he'll have a change of heart. But does it matter? It's none of his business how we run this club, brother."

"I know that," Arthur says, frowning, "but he usually knows better than us on this."

Morgana gives him a small shrug, with one shoulder, face far too innocent for Arthur to believe she agrees with what he just said. "He has his ways. Ours don't have to be the same."

Arthur nods, because he does understand what she’s saying, but on a deeper level he's highly uncomfortable with what just happened, with arguing with his father. To have his disapproval. It doesn't sit right with him, especially since it's regarding Merlin. 

"Look," Morgana says, "he wasn't expecting to see this from either of us. Well, particularly you. Maybe you're right," she adds, but Arthur can tell she's just trying to make him feel better about it, "maybe he can see you as an example in this, and give the whole thing a chance."

"Right. I’ll give him a couple of days, and then I’ll call him."

Morgana pats his arm, and then her gaze turns fonder. "It was a good thing, what you did now for Merlin. What you said about the show."

"Not one word to him about it," Arthur warns, a bit embarrassed, "he doesn't need to know any of this."

“Arthur,” Morgana says, amused.

“I mean it, Morgana.”

“Alright,” she says, leaning back on her chair, “but only because you’ll be telling him yourself sooner or later.”

 

“Rise and shine, sleepy head!” 

Light suddenly bursts in the room, and Arthur groans, turning his face further into the pillow. There’s a wet spot on it, and Arthur only pulls back because it feels moist and damp against his cheek, and that’d feel gross even if it was his own drool. He lifts his head a bit, rubbing his chin to make sure it wasn’t his, but of course it wasn’t. Merlin jumps back into his bed, bouncing as he moves closer, and Arthur looks at him, at his wide grin, eyes almost closed in half moons as he moves to straddle Arthur’s lap. “Let’s have you, lazy daisy!”

Arthur just raises his eyebrows at him, a hand moving to Merlin’s hip. “If my alarm didn’t go off yet, then I could be sleeping right now,” he says. “And so should you.”

“Yeah,” Merlin replies, settling in to sit on his lap more comfortably. “But I had to feed Aithusa.”

“She couldn’t wait until we woke up?” Arthur replies, shifting a bit, to prop himself up on an elbow and lean closer to him.

“Someone distracted me last night when I had to feed her,” Merlin says, but he’s smiling. With reason, Arthur can feels his own lips stretching slightly into a smile as he remembers it. “And we had a show last night and she’s never been in your place before. And someone,” Merlin frowns a bit at him, “doesn’t let her out of her cage.”

“I can’t have her eating away my cables,” Arthur says, “I don’t know how you do it at your place, but my flat isn’t arranged taking into account a rabbit on the loose.”

“Either you change that or I won’t come around that often,” Merlin replies, “can’t leave her alone for that long.”

“You have a bed too, don’t you, Merlin?” Arthur lies down again, looking up at him. “Speaking of beds, I don’t see why must we be awake.”

“This is important,” Merlin leans over him, grinning, “we both have work today. And I remembered something.”

“Yeah?” Arthur asks absently. It’s a nice sight, Merlin on top of him, hair ruffled from sleep, the lines of his neck and shoulders stark in visibility, while his skin looking so soft under the morning light pouring in from the window he opened. He gets a hand on the back of Merlin’s neck, bringing him down to press their lips together.

Merlin hums as if he wanted to speak, but he kisses Arthur softly, lips moving gently on Arthur’s as he presses closer. It’s lovely, although he’ll never say it, the way Merlin fits so well against him, almost like two parts of a whole. He opens his mouth, sucking on Merlin’s bottom lip, pleased with the low groan Merlin lets out before he pulls away.

“No, no,” Merlin pulls back just enough to look at him, “I won’t have you distract me with your cheap tricks!”

“Cheap tricks?” Arthur looks at him, still feeling too soothed by the kiss to look properly annoyed.

“Well,” Merlin’s eyes dart down to Arthur’s mouth for a moment. “Maybe— I mean yes! Stop doing that, you prat!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Arthur says, amused.

“You’re lying there looking at me like that,” Merlin waves a hand to point at all around his face, “and I remembered something important! Stop being distracting!”

“Stop being distracted so easily, then, Merlin,” Arthur says, but he’s grinning.

“Clotpole,” Merlin says, and gives him another kiss before he sits up. “Alright. So remember when we went to see my father? You told me you’re a knight.”

“I’m not a knight, Merlin.”

Merlin ignores his reply. “You said you’d show me pictures, but you never did.”

Arthur groans, and rubs a hand over his face, before using it to tug Merlin down, “Come on, back to being distracted, Merlin.”

“No! Arthur, you said you’d show them to me.”

Arthur looks up at the headboard, sighing. “Alright.”

“Really?”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Arthur waves a hand towards the small desk he has on the side of the bedroom. “Fetch me my laptop, then.”

Merlin twists his upper body to look at the desk, and holds out a hand, eyes flashing gold. The laptop flies off the desk into Merlin’s hands, and he holds it up, eyes down at it and then quickly glancing at Arthur.

Arthur stares at him for a moment, surprised by the display of magic outside of stage. He didn’t think much of it before, but for someone who claims to do magic since before he could walk, Merlin sure avoids doing it around him. He’s probably used to hiding it, Arthur realizes, warmth building up in his chest as he’s reminded of the trust Merlin has in him.

He shifts, hand planted on the mattress as he sits up, the other cupping Merlin’s jaw as he leans in to give him a slow kiss. Merlin slumps a bit against him, tension leaving him as he kisses him back, lips sliding against Arthur’s. The laptop, which Merlin is still holding between them is getting uncomfortable against Arthur’s stomach, so he pulls back.

“Lazy idiot,” he comments, voice low and fond, eyes on Merlin’s face to see him smile. Pleased, Arthur settles down again against his pillow, taking the computer from Merlin and opening it in his lap. Merlin turns to lie next to him, tucked in against his side, head resting on his shoulder so he can look into the screen as well, arm wrapping around Arthur’s middle as he watches him input his password. “Now where is it....”

Merlin nudges him slightly as Arthur looks through his folders, until he finds the one labeled ‘sword fighting’. He opens the first picture in it and turns the computer so Merlin can see it better, as he himself doesn’t have much of an interest in looking at them again.

He does his best to ignore Merlin’s snickering, moving a hand slowly on his hip, pressing his nose on the top of Merlin’s head as he makes a sound of delight, zooming in on a picture. Arthur glances at the screen, unable to help himself, and groans, turning his face to hide it in Merlin’s hair. Merlin laughs at lot for someone who claimed they wouldn’t do it. Arthur’s embarrassed, but not as much as he’d thought he’d be, and it’s nice, to have Merlin pressed up against him laughing, keeping his mind off the disaster that the night before was with Uther. He spreads his fingers, palm pressed on Merlin’s hip, sliding it down a bit towards his thigh, nuzzling his face slightly into Merlin’s hair to press a kiss in it.

Merlin is smiling, he can feel it against his shoulder, but he stops laughing when he moves to the next picture, and stills. His hand comes up to touch the screen lightly, and Arthur glances over his head to see what it is.

A picture of himself, of course, in chainmail, a red tunic with a golden dragon stitched into it, some light armor on his shoulder and his sword held with both hands, one at the handle and the other at the hilt, positioned so he’d be prepared to strike, but his head is turned to the side, laughing at Leon, who is a bit behind him, with a red cape instead of the armor, his own sword pointing to the ground, a wide smile on his face as he was captured mid speech. The picture is around five years old, obvious mostly because of their haircuts, the fringe that kept getting into Arthur’s eyes, the slicked back hairdo Leon favored for a while.

Suddenly Arthur misses the weight of chainmail on his shoulders, the rush of an actual competition, testing their skills in duels. It’s been years since he’s done more than spar with Leon, and he wonders why they stopped at all. 

“This suits you,” Merlin says, and turns his head to press a kiss on his chest. His hand on Arthur’s side moves to rest on a spot over his ribs, on his left side, and Arthur’s hand covers Merlin’s. 

“You just want me back in an armor so you can make fun of me,” Arthur says.

Merlin turns to him with a serious look. “I would never.”

They hold eye contact for a moment, before Merlin cracks up, face breaking into a wide smile as he lets out a laugh, unable to keep up with the lie. Arthur lets out an amused sigh, but he’s smiling as well. He glances at the picture one last time, wondering, and then closes the laptop, pushing it aside. He turns to his side, facing Merlin properly, and grins at him as he leans in.

“Now, about those distractions....”

Merlin is still smiling as he pulls him into a kiss.


	34. Not At Home

“Really,” Guinevere says as she pulls him into a hug, “I’m so happy for you and Merlin.”

Arthur puts an arm around her, holding her close for a moment, smiling a little into her hair, before he pulls back to look at her warm brown eyes again. “So you kept saying during the entire meal.”

“But I am!” she says, stepping aside so Lance can pat Arthur on the shoulder, grinning at him.

“Everyone is,” Lancelot says with a pleased smile. “He’s happier than he usually is. So are you.”

“He drives me nuts,” Arthur replies, looking away.

The other two look at each other knowingly, and give him another smile. He hopes he and Merlin never become this sickening as a couple. He’d die of embarrassment.

“If you say so,” Guinevere hooks her arm with Lance’s. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Arthur,” Lance says.

“Call me!” Guinevere says and Arthur nods, lifting a hand in goodbye, before watching them go.

He turns to leave, hands going to his jacket’s pockets, a warm feeling remaining in his chest at the meal shared with the couple. He pulls out his phone with one of his hands, staring at it for a moment as he walks towards the club, and then dials his father’s number. He has to wait a moment, and then it’s his father’s new assistant that picks up the call, asking him to wait a moment.

“He’s been very busy,” she says, “I hope everything is alright, his lawyer has been here often.”

Arthur frowns a bit. “I think so. He hasn’t come to me yet, so there’s probably nothing to worry about.”

“That’s a relief,” she says, with a small laugh, and Arthur knows right away she’s not a right for for his father. Too open about her opinions. “Things have been really tense. And his wife has been having some issues and keeps coming up— Oh, alright, he just signaled me. I’m transferring the call now, Mr Pendragon.”

“Arthur?” comes his father’s voice not a moment later. “Good thing you called, I was just about to do the same.”

Arthur smiles a bit, relieved. If his father was about to call, then he’s not too disappointed with what happened on Monday. “Of course, Father, I wanted to hear from you.”

“Is your sister with you?”

“Not at the moment,” Arthur says, and he stops on a street corner. Going right would mean reaching the club in two minutes. He goes straight ahead instead. 

“You’re both to be here friday morning at seven.”

“Is everything alright?” Arthur asks with a small frown. Last time he was summoned like this by his father, it was to hear about his wedding and be setup with a girl who wanted to kill him. It’s not something he’s keen on repeating.

“Everything's been taken cared of,” Uther assures him, “I have some news for the both of you.”

“Yes, Father. Seven am,” Arthur says, giving a small nod even though Uther can’t see him.

“Don’t be late,” Uther says before he hangs up.

Arthur brings down the phone, wondering what was that about, as he walks down the street, stopping in front of The Physician. He pushes the door open, bell ringing as he comes in, and as Merlin turns to smile wide at him next to the shelf he’s organazing, Arthur puts the call out of his mind for the moment.

“Sorry, we don’t sell beauty potions here,” Merlin says, “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about your face.”

“What did you just say, Merlin?” Arthur chases after him, and Merlin’s laughing a bit, smile cracking on his face as he hides behind the counter, not looking very regretful when Arthur traps him against it. Then again, Arthur probably shouldn’t indulge him with it and repay by kissing him, but he can’t help himself when Merlin looks so happy, when his mouth is right there for the taking.

“I said there’s nothing I can do about your toad face,” Merlin says when he pulls back, a hand coming up to rest on Arthur’s cheek.

“Terrible costumer service,” Arthur replies, leaning into the touch, “where do I input my complaints?”

“Well you can always shove them up your arse,” Merlin says.

Arthur grins, leaning in. “Is that really what you want to shove in there?”

It’s with pleasure he watches Merlin’s pupils dilate, his eyes wandering down to Arthur’s lip, his own mouth opening. “Well, I mean—”

“God gracious,” Gaius stops by the back door, flasks in his hands as he turns his judgmental eyebrow at them, “and here I thought you were handsy enough last week. You’re at work, Merlin, save it for later. And Arthur, I expected better from you.”

Arthur lifts his hands from where they were resting on Merlin’s hips, fighting a blush. “I just came to say hello.”

“Hi,” Merlin grins at him, but his cheeks are red, and he’s clearly making an effort to avoid looking at Gaius too.

Arthur feels shy as he presses a kiss to his cheek, and awkward for doing it under Gaius’s stare. “Come to the club after work,” he says, stepping back. 

“Yeah, but we’re going to my place tonight,” Merlin says, “I miss my bed.”

“ _ Merlin,” _ Arthur says, his cheeks burning at last as he quickly glances in Gaius’s direction, but Merlin’s uncle only looks exasperated. Still, they could have talked about that later, when Merlin’s family isn’t present. How is he dating such an idiot?

Merlin smiles at him, and Arthur hates that he has his answer right there. Instead he gives him a nod, another at Gaius while avoiding his eyes, and leaves the store, finally making his way into his club.

 

Arthur has been wondering when he’d be pestered once he reached the football field on Thursday, expecting it to happen as soon as he walked in with Leon, but it takes until they make a break for Will to come up to him, arms crossed and frown on his face as he moves to stand before Arthur.

“We both know Merlin can make sure you regret hurting him,” Will says, “so I don’t need to defend him. But I have been looking for spells on turning people inside out, just in case he’s in need of it.”

Arthur nods, a bit disturbed. “That’s a rather lovely imagination you’ve got there. I doubt he’ll be needing that, though. Also, I’m very sure that’d be murder.”

“That’s only a problem if you can prove it,” Will replies.

“Seeing as I’d be dead, I don’t see how I would.”

“Then it’s not a problem at all, is it?”

“Besides killing someone, you mean,” Arthur says, but Will doesn’t get a chance to reply, as Gwaine runs up to them. Arthur’s not sure if he wanted to hear the answer in any case.

“So I hear congratulations are in order,” Gwaine clasps Arthur hard on the shoulder, before throwing an arm around his neck. “It was about time, princess!”

Arthur smiles a bit despite himself, shoving Gwaine off, not that it works very well. Gwaine just laughs, pulling Arthur closer to his side.

"Now, come on," Gwaine says, "We've been waiting for this to happen since forever, you have to tell us everything!"

"So Merlin wasn't pestered into spilling the beans?" Arthur replies.

"Of course he did!" Gwaine laughs, "but we haven't heard your side, have we?"

Arthur looks at him and grins, "He didn't tell you anything."

"I tried my best, I'll admit," Gwaine says, "but he's sneaky, our Merlin, behind that dopey smile of his.”

“Well if he didn't say anything, then I won’t either.”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, does he?” Gwaine asks, and squeezes his shoulder hard. “You’ve passed the test! Respecting his privacy, good.”

Arthur turns to him, frowning slightly as the sun gets in his eyes. It doesn’t stop him from figuring out Gwaine’s expression. “You wanted me to fail, didn’t you?”

“After all this build up? I think we all deserve some details.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Will speaks up again, “I’ve heard enough the past few months.”

“And with that, I think we’re done with the gossip” Arthur says, pulling Gwaine’s arm off him, “Time to give it a rest.”

“You’re no fun!” Gwaine lets out, but he’s clearly amused, a smirk on his lips and eyebrows high as he shifts closer to Will.

Arthur, pleased to see him give up on the topic, moves towards Leon instead, who’s resting against the stands, trying to take advantage of the small shadows framing the place.

“Was it as bad as you’d thought?” Leon asks, when Arthur sits down on the grass beside him.

“I wouldn't quite go that far,” he replies, pulling a knee up and resting his arm on top of it, “more pestering than torturing, I’d say.”

“Then we must brace ourselves,” Leon says.

Arthur turns to him, raising his eyebrows. “Brace ourselves?”

“They’re clearly planning on ambushing you later on,” Leon smiles a bit, “knowing them, I’ll say they’re planning another night out.”

“Good luck with that,” Arthur looks up, “As if I hadn’t embarrassed myself enough last time.”

“I had fun.”

“You were all over my sister, Leon,” Arthur replies.

“I had fun,” Leon repeats himself, a smile tugging on his lips.

Arthur shoves him off. “Well I won’t be convinced to do it again so soon. And in any case,” he ads, turning to his friend, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did we stop going to tournaments?”

Leon scratches a bit of his scruff, frowning slightly, “We did stop, didn’t we? We opened the club, and then we didn’t have time for anything much. It’s a pity.”

“I still have my teaching license,” Arthur admits, looking down at his feet, “and we’ve been doing good with our practices.”

“I have missed sword fighting,” Leon agrees. He pauses, and then looks at Arthur, a smile growing on his face, “You want to go back to it. To tournaments and reenactments.”

“Maybe not all the way back,” Arthur says, “Lord knows Morgana mocks me enough about it. But I miss the environment. Having a chainmail on.”

“I’ve always loved my cape,” Leon says with a laugh, “You’re right. We should do it again one day. Maybe contact some of the folk in the field.”

Arthur grins, relieved to hear him say that. He’s been thinking a bit on the issue ever since he showed Merlin the photographs, and he wouldn’t know what to do if Leon didn’t want back in. He’s certainly not about to go back to sword fighting on his own, and it’s always more fun when his friend is around to battle with him. He pats Leon hard on the knee, squeezing it for a moment, and then gets up, holding out a hand to help his friend to his feet.

“Come on, break is over. We have to get back into shape if we plan on getting back into the game.”

Leon is grinning when he clasps his hand in Arthurs and gets up as well.

 

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Morgana asks, turning in her sofa.

Arthur sighs, resting an elbow on the armrest of the chair he’s in, as they wait for their appointment with their father. “Neither.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Morgana says, smugly, patting his knee “you won’t be able to do it for much longer.”

“Next thing you’ll be telling me we can’t be sure it’s not Agravaine’s child,” Arthur comments, leaning a little on his elbow to be closer to her.

Morgana turns to him, eyes widening, “I hadn’t considered that angle! Arthur, you might have a point there.”

Arthur turns to her, eyebrows high. “Really?”

“Of course not, don’t be stupid,” she says, swatting lightly at him, “I’m sure they use condoms with him.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You brought it up, brother!”

His father's assistant, at her desk across the room, puts down her phone, turning to them with a quick smile. “Your father is ready to see you now.” Arthur hasn’t picked up her name yet, but she seems too nice to last long anyway.

Arthur and Morgana get up, sharing a look before they move towards the office. Arthur feels himself standing straighter, his step firmer. Morgana can deny Uther’s influence all she wants, but her chin is held high, shoulders drawn back, and she moves ahead of him, opening the door wide and striding in. 

They stop side by side as they see Uther sitting down by his desk, Catarina standing beside him with a hand on his shoulder. The individual sofas, usually positioned in front of the desk were moved around, and are now by one of the walls. If they were to sit on them, Arthur and Morgan would be a bit too far for a natural conversation with their father so they remain standing in front of the desks instead. 

“Good day, Father,” Arthur says, hands locking behind his back, his stance wide.

“Good, you’re here,” Uther says, looking at them, “I’m relieving you of your duties.”

There’s a moment of silence following that statement, and Arthur isn’t sure he understand what his father means.

“What?” Arthur glances at his sister, who’s confused as well, and then back at their father. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve come to the conclusion the two of you are unfit to be a part of my business,” Uther says, glancing down at the papers on his desk. “You’ve been disinherited of your faction for Camelot,” he slides the papers across the desk for them to see, “You will no longer take part in the business.”

Arthur’s heart feels clenched tight, his hand releasing the other as he leans forward, reaching out for the papers. Morgana grabs them first, frowning as she skims them over. It feels hard to breathe, as if he just got punched hard in the stomach, but he does his best to hold back any reaction. He doesn’t want to disappoint his father any further.

“Is this because of Merlin’s show?” she asks harshly, handing over the papers to Arthur.

He looks down at it, but the written text doesn’t translate into words in his head. “You’ve always welcomed my inputs and suggestions,” Arthur says frowning slightly, his heart thumping loud by his ears, “even when you didn’t agree with them.”

“You stood against everything we’ve worked for.” Uther replies coldly. “And I want none of it to do with Camelot. I cannot trust you to not do the same if it I handed you over the reign. I will not risk having you destroy Camelot’s reputation. I cannot allow your behaviour to ruin everything that I’ve built.”

“Because of one magic show?” Morgana replies, her voice raising, “because you’re stuck in your old ways—”

“Morgana,” Arthur interrupts her firmly, and turns to look at his father again. “I work every day to be a son you can be proud of, to be the person you want me to be. You’ve always taught me to be true to my heart, and to follow my instincts, and that’s all I’ve done.”

“My decision is final,” Uther says. “You may leave now.” 

Arthur places the paper back on the table, his mind blank as he gives his father a nod. He grabs Morgana’s wrist, and she stops as she was about to go off again, turning to him. She glances at Catrina, who hasn’t said anything yet, frowning harder. Arthur doesn’t have it in him to think about that. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel, everything in him going numb.

“Have a good day, father, Catrina,” he says, and turns around, taking Morgana with him out of the office.

“You did great, my beloved,” they hear Catrina say softly to her husband as they walk out of the office, “my heart is overwhelmed with the trust you have in me.”

Morgana pauses for a second as they hear this, but one look at Arthur and she closes the door behind them, turning to him right away.

“Can he really do this?” she hisses, her hand coming up to his arm. “Can she really do that?”

“So,” they hear, turning to see Uther’s assistant excited face. “Was it a boy or a girl?”

“Neither,” Arthur replies, his tone far too emotionless, but he can’t seem to change it.

“You should ask Uther about it,” Morgana says sharply, and then eases her tone. “I’m sorry, this isn’t about you,” she tells the assistant. Then she’s taking Arthur away, not looking back as she pushes him towards the lift. He goes with her, his step faltering a little on his way, his head swimming now that he’s out of the room.

“It’s his loss,” Morgana speaks again, her tone disdaining. They’re already in the lift, doors opening to reveal the ground floor. He didn’t notice they went down several floors. She takes his arm again, pulling him out. “It’s not like we need this place.”

They used to make the lift they just stepped out of go up and down every floor, and dare each other into going down alone to the parking levels. As kids they used to sit by the sofas in the front hall, which they’re walking past right now, drawing posters for imaginary shows, which they’d beg their father and the staff in the ticket booths to put up. “Camelot is our home,” Arthur says.

Morgana frowns at him, her hand tight on his arm. “That doesn’t say anything good about him, you know. We shouldn’t have been raised at his place of work, we shouldn’t have been.... groomed to continue his work. Especially for him to take it all back like this. And now it’s all Catrina’s, I suppose.”

Arthur looks away from the wall filling painting he’s been admiring since he was a child as he turns to his sister again. “Catrina’s?”

“Didn’t you hear her? Think about it,” she says, “first we lose our place at his home for her, now we’re no longer involved with Camelot, and why else would she be there for this? I’m sure she’s the new heir.”

“Like you were sure she was pregnant,” Arthur replies without much feeling.

“Maybe I was wrong about that,” Morgana says, “but he’s.... He’s putting us aside for her. For his new family. And you know what? He can go fuck himself.”

“Morgana,” Arthur lets out, shocked.

“No, I mean it,” Morgana says, “we already tolerate a lot from him, but this is too much.”

“He doesn’t owe us jobs, Morgana,” Arthur replies, “if he thinks we’re not fit for Camelot....” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Just the thought of not being good enough, of having failed his father is making it hard to breathe.

“Then it's his loss,” Morgana says, her tone softer as she gets a hand on his shoulder, and pulls him into a hug, sensing his distress. Her hands are gentle on his back, and Arthur leans into her, his nose pressed on her hair, soothed by the familiar scent of her shampoo. “We don’t need him, and he’s done little to deserve us. He’s built Camelot from the ground? We’ve done the same with Excalibur, on our own, and in our own terms. He has no right to punish us for running our business however we want to.”

“But he has the right to keep us from being a part of his own business,” Arthur replies, pulling back a bit. “We can’t take this personally—”

“Of course we can, Arthur! It  _ is _ personal!” she says, holding his shoulders to make him look at her, “Arthur, he just cut us off like nothing so Catrina can have it!”

“We let him down,” Arthur says, his throat feeling too tight, “we’ve failed him.”

“No, we didn't,” Morgana says, “what you said in his office, you were right. Look,” she sighs, “let’s.... go home. Your place or mine, doesn’t matter. We’re taking the day off, we’ll get loads of ice cream and talk this through.”

“We have work to do,” Arthur says, “and I have plans with Merlin this evening.”

“Not today,” Morgana insists, taking his arm again and pulling him out of the building. Arthur lets his eyes linger on its walls, on the high ceilings, on the billboards, as they leave, “Today we have a lot to work through.”


	35. A Conspiracy Unmasked

Morgana is resting against his side, and it’s nice to have her warmth against him, even as she’s curled up around a bowl of ice cream, spoon in her hand and her back against him. The arm he has around her is going numb, his fingertips tingling, but Arthur ignores it for now. He’s trying to keep his mind blank, focused only on the movie they’re watching. He's not sure of the main character's name. Is it Sandie? He has Arthur’s nose.

They hear a beep, and a vibrating sound coming from the couch. Arthur has had his phone turned off ever since they got to his flat, and he had thought Morgana had done the same after she warned Leon they wouldn’t be coming into work. Obviously he had been wrong.

Morgana shifts under his arm to reach for it, hesitating before she unlocks the screen. “That bastard,” she lets out, finger pressing on the screen of her phone as she scrolls down a little. “Arthur, Catrina gets the business," Morgana says, her tone hard.

"You don't know that," Arthur tells her again, tiredly.

"Actually, I do," Morgana replies, turning the phone to him, the screen a bit too bright for Arthur's liking. Its contents, an email from Uther's assistant asking what had happened, and letting her know Uther had just informed her that Catrina would now take part in every decision at Camelot. The email, he notices mildly, was sent to him too. He reaches for his back pocket, holding his own phone and turning it on. If their father’s assistant is contacting them about it, then maybe Uther’s contacting him too.

Morgana turns the screen back to herself, frowning at it, before her eyes widen, looking at him. "Arthur, did we ever find out if they signed a prenup?"

"There was no need, remember?" he replies, "She's rich too."

"And about to get richer, if she's getting everything we were entitled to."

Something twists in Arthur’s stomach, and he looks away. “I hate when you talk about him like that. I could care less about the money, Morgana, he is our father. You shouldn’t talk about him as if you can’t wait for him to die so you can have his inheritance.”

“It’s not really about the money, Arthur,” Morgana replies, her hand coming up to his shoulder. “You know it’s not. We’re not poor, we do well with Excalibur, we don’t  _ need _ his money. This is about Uther putting us aside for someone else, as if getting remarried means forgetting about his family.”

“He did it because of the magic show, Morgana,” Arthur says, eyes downcast as he inputs his password on his phone, “among other things, I suppose.”

“What other things could there possibly be that don’t involve casting us aside for Catrina?”

Arthur is saved from replying for a moment, as his phone buzzes with several messages and calls he’s missed from Merlin. Nothing from his father. "I think," he says, "I forgot to warn Merlin."

"He can come over," Morgana says, sighing, "but I refuse to be the third wheel."

“I was going to call him over anyway,” Arthur replies, as he swipes right to call Merlin. “This is  _ my _ flat,” he adds, a bit petulant.

“Finally, you clotpole!” Merlin starts as soon as he answers the call, “We were supposed to meet at the club, and you didn’t pick up any of my calls!”

“I’m at home,” Arthur says, not feeling quite enough to banter at the moment, “with Morgana. You can come over if you wish.”

“Is everything alright?” Merlin asks, picking up on his tone.

“We’re fine,” Arthur replies. Morgana slaps him in the chest lightly for it. It’s not really a lie, but he rephrases it anyway. “We’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”

“When you get here,” Arthur says, not really wanting to say it just yet. “We’ll tell you everything.”

“Alright, yeah.” Merlin says, and Arthur’s mouth twitches up, imagining clearly Merlin nodding to himself, “On my way. I have to drive, so I’ll see you then.”

“See you.” Arthur hangs up.

“We’re not okay, and you have some explaining to do. What did you mean when it wasn’t just the magic show?”

Arthur shrugs a bit, “He never really liked that we left Camelot in the first place to start our business. And he’s disapproved a lot of the choices we’ve made with Excalibur, you know that. Jazz, stand up comedy, no name bands, slam poetry. And.... magic shows.”

“As if he wasn’t relieved we weren’t direct competition,” Morgana mutters, but it’s an old fight. They’ve been over it before.

“And,” Arthur hesitates, “I’m sure that dating Merlin isn’t helping.”

“Arthur,” Morgana’s tone softens, her hand resting on his chest now.

“It’s bad enough that he’s male with no connections in the industry,” Arthur says, his eyes on the shelf below the television “Father can claim to not mind, but you know he does. And if that wasn’t enough, Merlin is a magician. I don’t think Father can overlook that.”

He doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s true. Being with Merlin is a choice he gladly made, and doesn’t regret, but his father’s disapproval weighs on him nonetheless. Merlin isn’t Sophia or Vivian, or one of Uther’s picks for him. Uther had tried, at the wedding, but it’s a decision Arthur knows Uther regrets ever since he saw the deck of cards in Merlin’s hands. Uther hasn’t seen Merlin in his true element, and Arthur doesn’t think his father would ever get why Arthur’s has fallen for him. Merlin’s personality simply doesn’t fit with any of Uther’s parameters, but Arthur had hoped that his father would at least see how easy it was for Arthur to fall for Merlin, how much happier he’s been with him. The magic show had ruined that.

“As if that has anything to do with the business!” Morgana replies with a frown, “How can you say this isn’t personal?”

“He’s not cutting us off from his life,” Arthur says, “only his business.”

“But the reason he did it is personal, so—”

“But it’s a business decision. Doesn’t mean he stops being our father.”

“That’s not how this works,” Morgana says, “you can’t say he didn’t hurt you with this, this—”

“There’s no point in arguing about this,” Arthur says, “we’re still family, we just won’t work together. That’s alright. Can we go back to the movie? Stanley seems troubled with priesthood.”

Morgana gives him a hard look, but settles back against his side. “This is a tv show, brother. And the priest’s name is Sidney.”

They manage to watch a full episode, now that Arthur pays some attention to it, and Morgana’s skipping through the commercials when the doorbell rings. 

Morgana shifts a little away, so Arthur can pull his arm free and get up, going to the front door. He unlocks the door downstairs, and takes the time to go to the bathroom, while he waits for Merlin to go up the lift.

He opens the door as he hears the lift arriving, and watches Merlin get out of it, his posture relaxing slightly at the sight of him, stumbling on his own feet on his way to Arthur. Merlin’s blue eyes are intent on him, making his way closer. He’s opening his mouth to speak, but he’s stopped, lips just parted as Arthur cups his face with both hands, hands on his jaw and his thumb pressing slightly against Merlin’s cheekbones. His eyes meet Arthur’s with a question.

Arthur leans forward, eyes closing as he presses his mouth against Merlin’s. Merlin kisses him slowly, his hand coming up to the back of Arthur’s head, the drag of his lips warm and insistent, pressed against Arthur’s. Arthur sighs a little into the kiss, his shoulders sagging, some of his tension leaving him, and it’s with reluctance that he pulls back.

“We’re in the living room,” he says, letting go of Merlin to close the door. Merlin takes a moment, his fingers dragging on the back of Arthur’s neck as he pulls back. He turns to face Merlin again once the door is locked, to where he’s still standing, looking at Arthur with some concern. Arthur looks over Merlin’s shoulder for a moment, to where Morgana’s painting, vague as ever, hangs. He turns to Merlin again, his hand grasping Merlin’s as he moves to the other room. “Come on.”

"What happened?" Merlin asks, trailing after him.

"We got disinherited." Morgana says as soon as they come in. "Hello, Merlin."

Her tone is casual, but her eyes shift to Arthur’s quickly, moving over to free the space next to her Arthur had been using before he got up. He gets back on the couch, his left arm going around her, back to their original position. He looks at Merlin, slowly lifting his other arm for him. Merlin doesn't hesitate before he's crawling to his side on the couch, curled up against him. "What do you mean?"

Arthur turns his head, pressing his nose on the top of Merlin's hair, his curls tickling lightly on his face. He sighs softly, his shoulders sagging, before he lifts his head again. "He decided we're not fit for Camelot anymore." His voice doesn't waver nor crack. He's fine.

“Why not?” Merlin asks, frowning a bit, “the club is great!”

Arthur and Morgana share a look.

“Creative differences,” Arthur says.

“That’s one way to put it,” Morgana mutters, “He’s handing it all over to Catrina.”

There’s a little wrinkle between Merlin’s brows when he furrows a bit. “The theater?”

Arthur nods. He doesn’t think of high ceilings, of the echo of their steps as he and Morgana ran down the long halls.

Merlin places a hand on Arthur’s thigh as he shifts so he’s sitting up a bit further. “But doesn’t she work with manure?”

Morgana sits up too, turning more towards them, Arthur’s arm now around her waist. “She does! Arthur, he has a point.”

“I do?” Merlin tilts his head slightly.

“You’re right, Merlin,” Morgana says, her tone serious, “I suppose it’s not too far-fetched for Uther to set us aside if he doesn’t think we’ll manage to run the theater the way he wants it,” she explains, her eyes taking their time on the both of them, brighter than they were moments ago, “but it would still be a more logical option for him than to put Catrina in charge. This isn’t her industry, she knows nothing of the area, apart from perhaps some cultural taste. You can’t run Camelot on taste, and Uther knows that. Why is he giving her reign over Camelot when he could hire someone who actually knows what they’re doing? Why hand it over at all? There weren’t open positions waiting for us, he was fine on his own. We were supposed to join the business when he retires, or close to it, so why is Catrina gaining control over it so soon?”

“Maybe she’s there to learn,” Arthur says, “go along with him to see how things work, so she can replace him one day.”

“Then why must every decision go through her? Arthur, she’s there already,” Morgana says, leaning forward. “Don’t you see? First she gets rid of us, and slowly too,” she adds quickly, pointing a finger at them when she realizes it, “that dinner with them and Sophia. We lost our rooms.”

“She needed space for her things, Morgana,” Arthur frowns a bit, an odd feeling setting over him, “and we don’t live there anymore. You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” Morgana replies, shifting to sit on her legs, so she’s higher now. Arthur pulls back his arm, sitting straighter too. He doesn’t like to look up at her. “First she removes us from his home, then his business. She’s taking our space, and gaining control over Camelot… is this just the start?”

“What, you think our father would cut us out entirely from his life?” Arthur replies, frowning. “”That’s not him.”

“None of this is him!” Morgana shoots back, “recklessly getting married to someone he knew for such a small amount of time? Claiming we’re no longer fit for Camelot and then place it in even less capable hands? Uther hasn’t been acting as himself, he’s been different since they’ve got together, we’ve discussed that.”

“He wouldn’t throw us away just like that because he’s married. He hasn’t really changed much, just been happier, Morgana,” Arthur says, but he frowns. There’s something else bugging him, and he can’t quite put his finger on what.

“Half a year ago you wouldn’t have believed Uther would marry again, much less just as quickly as he did. It’s like she’s blinded him,” Morgana insists, “I wouldn’t be that surprised, if he set us aside to focus on a new beginning with her. Not at this point.”

“Sophia,” Arthur says, eyes widening, as he realizes what’s putting him off. He feels both Merlin and Morgana tensing up against his sides when he brings her up, but he might be onto something, even if it’s a touchy subject for them all. He looks at Merlin. “You said magic runs in the family, right?”

“It does in mine. Doesn’t seem to work like that in yours,” he says, glancing at Morgana.

“Might be from my mother’s side,” Morgana says, pulling some hair behind her ear, “we don’t have a way to know. But what about it?”

“You’re missing the point,” Arthur says, “Sophia has magic, and she’s Catrina’s niece.”

He sees when they realize what that might mean, and the look they exchange between the two of them, which feels colder, harder than he’s used to see in either of them.

“And she tried to kill me,” Arthur says, easily done since he can’t remember it at all. Not even her face. “Our date, it was set up by Catrina and my father, I remember that. And afterwards, Catrina told me that Sophia spoke to her after the incident.”

“You’ve never told me that,” Morgana says quickly with a frown. Arthur dismisses it, it had hardly seemed important at the time.

“She said Sophia had some family emergency with her father, and had to leave the country. If,” he pauses, not liking to make such accusations to people who’ve only acted pleasantly in his company. Catrina has always seemed kind, and it doesn’t sit right with him to talk on her back like this as if someone he’s welcomed into his family could actually want to murder him.

“If Catrina knew,” Morgana says for him, “then who’s to say she didn’t plan it either?”

“But no one’s tried to kill me again, nor you, Morgana,” Arthur says, not liking this line of thought, even if he was the one bringing it up. “At least as far as I know.”

“No, but she clearly found an easier way to his fortune, after Sophia failed,” Morgana says, “if she can just convince Uther to make her his sole heir, then it doesn’t matter if we live or not.”

“And maybe,” Merlin says slowly, looking at them, “she’s controlling him. If he’s really acting that differently from usual, then maybe magic’s involved.”

“Like you think I was,” Arthur looks at him.

“Of course,” Morgana’s eyes widen, “how could I not see it? I even told you it was happening unnaturally fast, and you compared it to Uther’s situation! If she’s controlling him, all she has to do is order him to change his will.”

“Then he’s in danger, isn’t he?” Arthur says, heart hammering in his chest as he leans forward a bit, “If she becomes his heir, then what’s stopping her from killing him like she tried to do with me?”

No one answers to him, a tense silence settling in. Arthur gets up, striding fast towards the exit. “We need to go there and warn him, maybe if he knows then he’ll fight it.”

“Arthur, we should think this through, plan things,” Morgana says, as she reaches him.

Merlin stops by his side, a hand resting on Arthur’s arm. “We don’t even know for sure if she has magic.”

“But if she has magic, my father’s in danger! Every moment he spends with her—” he stops, as Merlin and Morgana tense up, Merlin pulling his hand away. Arthur sighs, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not saying she’s dangerous because she has magic, it’s only that she has more means to hurt him in an instant.”

His explication doesn’t seem to help at all, Morgana’s face withdrawn, Merlin’s filled with hurt.

“It’s okay for you say she’s using magic to manipulate my father like I was, and to try to kill him, but it’s not for me to claim she’s dangerous for it? It’s the use she gives it, and we shouldn’t be wasting time on semantics,” Arthur lets out, starting to lose control of his temper. Every moment they waste arguing about this is another moment his father is at risk.

“We don’t know for sure she’s using magic,” Morgana says, “he could just be that blinded by Catrina. It’s only a possibility because of Sophia.”

“We need to know if she has magic,” Merlin says, “and how she’s using. Without knowing how she’s doing it, we can’t find out how to stop it.”

“Did you find all that about Sophia?” Arthur replies, “how did you stop it?”

Merlin and Morgana share an uneasy look, Merlin shifting slightly on his feet.

“It wasn’t as much as figure out how to stop her from controlling you as it was physically stopping her from going through with it,” Merlin says.

“Merlin blasted her away from the lake with a wave of his hand,” Morgana chips in, “she ran off after that, and Merlin went to fish you out.”

“So she just let go of her control, just like that?”

“I don’t think she was counting on having to fight someone with magic,” Morgana says.

“So we do the same,” Arthur says, “we go in with the element of surprise, fight her off and make her leave.”

“Unless Sophia told her,” Merlin says, with a small shrug, looking regretful, “and now she knows I could do something.”

“We still have to try!” Arthur says, “my father is in danger!” 

“Not yet, he’s not,” Morgana says, stepping forward, “Arthur, I would dream of it, as I have with you.”

That, at least, gets Arthur to calm down a bit. “You haven’t?”

“Not at all,” she says, “so we have time. Until I get a dream about it, we shouldn’t have to worry too much.”

“Alright,” he rubs a hand over his face, but doesn’t let Merlin, who places his hands on Arthur’s arm and lower back, lead him back into the living room. “But we still don’t have a moment to lose. How do we find out if she’s using magic?”

Merlin shifts a bit on his feet, pulling back a hand to rub the back of his head. “I’ve got to talk to Gaius.”

“Your uncle?”

“He doesn’t do much magic,” Merlin says, “but he knows a lot about it, and has some books. He’ll know something.”

“Alright,” Arthur says, “then you two go to him to solve it out, call me if you need help for research. Or anything else,” he adds, “As long as it doesn’t involve using magic, I can be of help. Meanwhile, I’m arranging a meeting with my father.”

“What for? It won’t help,” Morgana says. “He won’t listen and it will just alert Catrina.”

“I’ll just talk with him,” Arthur says, “I won’t tell him what we think, but maybe talking with him will make him see what’s happening. Or make it clearer to me that he’s being controlled. I should be able to tell, shouldn’t I?”

Merlin shrugs, “It depends on how he’s being controlled, I suppose.”

“Then it will help figure that out,” Arthur replies. He moves to grab his jacket, putting it on. “Let’s get this done before it’s too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year ago, at 30 January 2016, 23:46:17, I created a word doc named magician au, and here we are today! It's been a long journey, one that isn't over yet, and trust me, I really did not imagine to still be writing this one fic one year after starting it, even though most of the plot has been planned since the beginning.  
> To think little over a year ago I was ranting off about how a modern magician au was absolutely necessary, to whoever would hear me on the subject!


	36. Riddles in the Dark

Two days pass without them solving anything. Arthur hasn't managed to get in contact with his father, and even with him helping Merlin, Morgana and a reluctant Gaius with research, they haven't found anything to help them see if Catrina has magic and what she could be using.

"No one wants to be tracked down by their magic," Gaius explains, as he places another book on the table, with a thumping sound, sighing as he’s relieved of its heaviness, "so no one creates spells for it. And those who do, keep them secret."

“I suppose that makes sense,” Morgana says, as she turns a page, “I wouldn’t want other people to be able to find me like that.”

Arthur feels his impatience building up as he stares at the old english in the book set in front of him, barely understanding what’s written, much less be able to filter what’s useful or not. He knows they have to do this, he’s asked them to, but at the same time it feels like he’s wasting his time while his father is being mind controlled. 

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Arthur looks up to see Merlin. Merlin’s hand travels slowly to the back of his neck, fingers brushing lightly at the end of his hair, and Arthur sags a little towards him.

“Break?” Merlin asks. Arthur nods, and slowly gets up, hands on the table.

He grabs his jacket, which is hanging on the back of his chair. He puts it on as he follows Merlin out of Gaius’s office, into the front of the shop. Then they step outside, and Arthur relaxes a bit further as they’re hit with the cold air, feeling like he can breathe again.

“It feels like we’re doing nothing,” Arthur says, leaning against the wall by the front door, “I’ve found out nothing but the fact that I can’t read whatever those books say.”

“And your father doesn’t answer,” Merlin says, mimicking his position right next to him, their arms pressed against each other’s, “Are you sure you’re dialling the right numbers?”

“I do know how to make a phone call, Merlin,” Arthur says, a little amused.

"You exceed my expectations every day," Merlin replies with a grin, and of course he makes it both sound flattering and insulting at once. He wouldn't be Merlin otherwise.

“Your faith in me is inspiring.” 

Merlin lets out a laugh, smile wide, and tilts his head slightly as he looks at Arthur. “Doesn’t his secretary answer when you call his office? It just goes to voicemail? I thought she was on your side.”

“I’ve been calling his personal number,” Arthur says, “maybe she’ll let me know when he’s in his office with time to see me.” His heart hammers with this new possibility, “I should have come up with that sooner.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” Merlin bumps his shoulder gently on Arthur’s, “You still got me.”

Arthur holds back a smile, leaning in to press against his side. “Is that supposed to cheer me up?”

“I thought it might,” Merlin says, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“You really are a complete idiot, aren’t you, Merlin?” Arthur asks, but there’s no venom in his voice, and he does turn his head to press a kiss on his temple.

“Hey, I just figured out your next step, clotpole,” Merlin places a hand on his arm, shoving him lightly.

Arthur looks at him as patronisingly as he can, and it doesn’t come out that well because he keeps wanting to smile as he looks at Merlin’s face. “You’re giving yourself too much credit, Merlin.”

“Prat,” Merlin huffs out.

Arthur’s feet move fast, turning him around until he’s in front of Merlin, a small smile showing up on his face more easily now that he has another path to go on, and presses Merlin against the wall behind him. “A prat you rather like.”

“You’ve commented enough times on my bad taste,” Merlin replies quickly.

“Do you ever shut up?” Arthur tries not to chuckle, but Merlin grins at him, dimples on his cheeks and crow feet at the corner of his eyes, so Arthur has to lean forward and place a kiss on his mouth. In any case, that usually does help when he wants Merlin to stop talking.

“No, not really,” Merlin speaks against his mouth, and Arthur pulls back. Well, it sometimes helps. “Don’t you have a phone call to make?”

Arthur pulls his phone  from the back pocket of his trousers,  looking down at it as he unlocks the screen. He smiles a bit, as he feels Merlin pressing a kiss on his cheek, but only looks up after he dials up Uther’s office. Merlin smiles wide at him again, and tilts his head sideways, leaning in to kiss him again. 

Arthur stops him, placing his hand against Merlin’s mouth as Uther’s assistant answers the call. He wishes he remembered her name.

“Uther Pendragon’s office, this is his secretary, Mr Pendragon is at a meeting. How can I help you?”

“Hi, it’s Arthur Pendragon,” he says, glaring at Merlin when he licks his palm. He takes his hand away, and drags it on Merlin’s chest to clean it up, “my father isn’t answering his phone, I think he’s avoiding me. Could you let me know when he has some free time so I can pop in for a visit?”

“I don’t think that’s very ethical,” she says, her tone lowering, “but things have been so grim here lately. His lawyer keeps showing up, and Mrs Pendragon is incredibly demanding and rude! Yesterday she told me they’d be lowering my salary if I didn’t start bringing her coffee hourly, and this is not what I signed up for.”

“Arthur!” Morgana comes out of the shop fast, wrapping her long scarf around herself like a blanket. She frowns as she sees him on the phone, glances at Merlin, and then steps back into the shop, moving closer to the showcase so she can wait inside where it’s warmer, and still see them. Merlin rubs his arms, and shoves Arthur lightly on his chest so he steps back, and gives Merlin enough room to walk back into the store to join Morgana.

“So you’ll do it?” Arthur asks, ignoring them to focus on the conversation he’s having.

“I’ll text you when I find an opening, but I can’t guarantee it will still be open when you get here.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then,” he says, hanging up. 

He make sure the volume is up on the phone before he places it back in his pocket, and goes back inside. He relaxes a bit when no longer in the cold, opening his jacket as he turns to his sister. “Did you find the spell?”

“No,” Morgana says with a quick shake of her head and uncrossing her arms. “I’ve just realized something. Remember Agravaine?”

“I don’t have time for your jokes,” Arthur says with a sigh, “what is it now, she’s enchanting him too?”

“No! Well, maybe,” Morgana replies, “I remembered that he was the one who introduced Catrina to Uther. He was their best man, brother.”

“Oh,” Arthur looks at her, and then moves his hand back, to grab his phone again. “You’re right, he has spent some time with them both, and he knows them, so he might have noticed if anything seems odds. Good call,” he comments, scrolling down on his contacts list until he reaches Uncle Agravaine.

“Or,” she says slowly, “if he has anything to do with it.”

Arthur freezes, and turns to glare at her, hurt flaring in his chest, “What are you talking about? He’s family, Morgana.”

“He introduced them, Arthur,” Morgana says again, “he was the best man at their wedding.”

“So? We were at the wedding too,” Arthur replies, as he waits for his uncle to pick up the call, “and knowing Catrina doesn’t mean being an accomplice.”

“Arthur, you have to consider the option—”

“I know you don’t like Agravaine much, but this isn’t right,” Arthur stops her, his voice hardening, “it’s bad enough we’re suspecting Catrina as it is. I won’t hear more about this.”

“He was very eager with their marriage—”

“Hello, Arthur, how can I help you?” comes his uncle’s voice through the phone, and Arthur gladly takes the chance to end his conversation with Morgana.

“Yes, hello, Uncle. Have you heard from my father lately?” Arthur says, turning around so he’s not facing Morgana anymore.

“Yes, I have, such unfortunate business, Arthur,” Agravaine says, his voice heavy, “I’m terribly sorry he’s chosen to take you away from Camelot.”

“It’s not your fault,” Arthur replies.

Morgana huffs, and tugs on Merlin’s arm to go back into Gaius’ office. “Come on, Merlin, we have some research to do.”

“I can hardly wait,” Merlin mutters as he goes with her, and Arthur’s lips tug a little into a smile at his sarcastic tone.

“Even so, I felt the urge to plead to him to rethink his decision,” Agravaine continues, “I was surprised when I heard what had happened. I reminded him of your important input, of your work, but he didn’t listen to me.”

“Thank you,” Arthur says, pleased to know he can count on his uncle. He wishes Morgana had heard what he did, so her suspicions would disappear. “I was wondering if you noticed anything odd about him.”

“Not at all, Arthur,” Agravaine replies smoothly, “it was a surprise, yes, but not that much of it when you think about it. Uther is stubborn, and he can be blinded by his business. He’s told me you’ve made some unorthodox choices with you little pub, and he wants to defend his legacy. And your heart hasn’t been in the theater, has it? You’ve left it for your own project, after all.”

“Camelot was always the end game,” Arthur replies with a little less force, “I’ve always planned on returning.”

“Yes, but not on being there now,” Agravaine replies, “Arthur, there’s nothing wrong to want to leave your father’s shadow, but that also means to be away from his domain. I understand what you did, but it’s not hard to guess what Uther must have thought. What he must think of your choices.”

“I, yes,” Arthur says. He knows it’s not his uncle’s intentions, but that line of thought creates hurt in his chest, the feeling of disappointing his father renewed, making him feel out of step. But although it hurts, it’s reasonable. “I understand all of that. What doesn’t make sense to me is to put Catrina in charge.”

“Oh, but that’s easy to see, Arthur,” Agravaine says, his tone lighter, “I can understand why it might confuse you, you don’t know her as well as I do, as Uther does.” 

Arthur rubs his forehead, incredibly glad Morgana hasn’t heard what he just said. He doesn’t want to see what it might imply, and he hates his sister for putting stupid ideas in his head. “What do you mean, uncle?”

“Catrina is a powerful business woman, Arthur,” his uncle answers, “She rules over an entire industry, is it that surprising she knows how to manage another? It’s a different subject, yes, but dealing with money, with market choices, with employees, it’s nothing new. It’s something she knows more about than you do.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Arthur admits. His uncle is right, and he’s ashamed of what he’s doing with the others, of suspecting an ulterior motive from Catrina. He’s been feeling bad about what they’re doing, feeling wrong for days, and this only settles the feeling further in. It says very little about them that they’ve made up some magical conspiracy to make themselves feel better about what has happened.

“As I’ve said, Arthur, you don’t know her that well yet, you had no way of knowing,” his uncle reassures him, “and there’s nothing wrong with showing concern for your father’s business. I’m sure he’d be thankful to know you still care for it, even if you won’t work there again.”

Arthur’s phone vibrates against his ear, but he ignores it for now. “You’re right. Thank you, uncle.”

“You’re welcome, Arthur,” Agravaine says pleasantly, his voice warm, “anytime. And I mean it. Let’s have lunch tomorrow, you, me and your sister. You’re in need of family, of someone who will listen, understand and explain, ease your mind.”

“Thank you, uncle,” Arthur says, a bit surprised. It’s not often Agravaine makes such offer, but then again, it’s not often they go through issues like these. It will be good, to lunch with family, and it might make it easier for Morgana to see Agravaine’s points. “That’s much appreciated. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Goodbye, Arthur, I’ll see you tomorrow” his uncle hangs up.

Arthur lowers his hand to look down at his phone, trying to think over everything that had just happened. His uncle had made some important points, and after listening to him, his father’s reactions didn’t seem so different from the person he is. Maybe it’s time they stop doing research for some petty attempt at fixing things. Morgana was always very against Catrina, far more than Arthur, and he shouldn’t have let her sweep him along with it.

He’s about to lock the screen and go back into the office when he notices that he has a notification. It’s a text message from an unknown number.  _ ‘Your father has an opening in his schedule until 6pm’ _

It’s a bit past five o’clock, so Arthur shoves the phone in his pocket and strides back inside the office. All heads turns to him when he walks in, Gaius quickly returning to his book. They’re all wasting their afternoon doing this, per Arthur’s request, over some stupid idea that is mean and petty, and most likely not true. He can’t even look at the books properly, after his conversation with his uncle. 

“I’m going to meet my father now,” he warns them, as he walks to the desk he was sitting on, hand closing over his car keys. “You can all stop.”

“Stop?” Merlin frowns a bit at him, “I thought we were in a hurry.”

“What did Agravaine tell you?” Morgana asks, suspicion darkening her voice.

“He’s made me realize that we may be overreacting,” Arthur says, “it’s not that odd for Father to have done what he did.”

Morgana frowns at him, but Gaius looks thoughtful. “Uther is easily blinded by his business choices,” he says, “unfortunately, sometimes he doesn’t see the consequences of those actions.”

“And Catrina?” Morgana spats out, lifting her chin.

“She successfully runs her own business, worldwide,” Arthur says, repeating his uncle’s words. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m meeting my father and I’ll see if I can get some answers.”

“Go ahead,” Morgana says, turning to the book on her lap again, “but I’m not stopping this.”

Arthur nods. None of them actually stop, even Gaius, who came to his side in this. He’s not fighting on it now, he has to meet his father, and afterwards he’ll have more to argue with. And meanwhile, he supposes, it’s not too bad to prepare anyway. Better safe than sorry, after all.

He leaves in a hurry, walking out of the building and going near the club, where his car’s been parked since he went to work in the morning. He drives in silence to Camelot, parking near the theater, trying to work out exactly what he wants to talk about with his father. It’s not going to be easy to determinate if he’s being controlled, he knows this, because if it were, they’d know for certain by now.

No one stops him from going to the personnel only area, the staff, which he knows for years, looking exhausted as he passes them on his way to his father’s office. His father’s secretary looks distraught when he reaches her station, her hair untidy, falling out of her bun as she goes around her desk to his side.

“He has a meeting scheduled for six,” she says, as she leads him to the doors, “his wife left an hour ago, I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”

“Thank you for this,” Arthur says, as they stop by the door.

She lowers her voice, “She’s fired ten people already, and filled the office with a horrible scent. Mr Pendragon has made an announcement that all of our salaries will be changed soon.”

Arthur frowns, surprised by the comment about his father. He’s always cared about profits, yes, but keeping a satisfied staff at Camelot was always seen as fundamental to keep it functioning as well as it did. This can’t mean anything good. 

She opens the door for him, and Arthur walks in. She was right, it smells  _ bad _ in the office. He doesn’t know much about candles, perfumes or plants to know what exactly he’s smelling, he only knows it’s strong, the smell of it burning down his nose, flowery, cold, and with some alcohol. Mostly, it feels completely overdone, making Arthur need to cough, as if someone had spilled several bottles of perfume on the carpet and hadn’t even bothered to open a window to clear it out. He holds back the urge to speak, as the door is closed behind him. “Father?”

“Arthur, you’re here, good,” Uther says, looking up from his computer screen for a moment, and motions for him to sit down, as if he had summoned Arthur to his presence. As if Arthur hadn’t needed to sneak around to reach him.

He goes quietly, eyes on his father to see if he can see anything odd about him, but Uther seems himself, eyes back on the screen as he types quickly, not taking a break from work, even when Arthur’s there. So far, nothing different from usual. He sits down, his back straight, hands clasped together on top of his lap.

He notices it then. He’s on the wrong side of the desk to face it properly, but he’s seen for years the picture of his mother on the desk, and would recognise its wooden frame anywhere. Now, as his eyes sweep through the desk, he finds it missing.

“Father,” he starts, working out his words carefully. “I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

There’s no change in his father’s face, no flicker of emotion. He sighs, turning away from the computer to face Arthur properly. “What happened isn’t related to her, Arthur.”

“I know,” Arthur says, “but I wonder why you never speak of her.”

“There’s nothing to say, Arthur, she died,” Uther says, his voice growing colder, “and I have Catrina now.”

“I only wish to know how she was like,” Arthur insists, leaning forward a bit.

“She was strong, and kind,” Uther says a bit absently, shaking his head slightly as if he’s done with the subject. “It doesn’t matter, anymore, Arthur. She’s long gone. I loved her yes, but now I love Catrina, more than I ever thought I could. You have no need to hear of her.”

“So she doesn’t matter anymore?”

“Why should it matter?” Uther asks, and shakes his head. “This is not what I wish to speak you to about. I was going to call you tomorrow.”

“What for?” Arthur asks, still trying to work out his father’s words about his mother. It hurts, a bit, how dismissive he sounds.

“I’ve been arranging some issues with my lawyers, about Camelot.” he pauses. “You’re very invested in being a part of Camelot, Arthur, you and your sister.”

“Yes, father,” Arthur says, some hope building up in his chest, “it’s all we’ve been working towards, what you raised us to do. I care about the theater a great deal.”

“Yes, so I thought,” Uther says with a sigh, “and Catrina alerted me on the issue too.”

“She did?” Arthur looks at him in surprise, and relief. His cheeks burn a bit with shame, and he feels mean for all the plotting they did behind his father and Catrina’s backs again.

“She did. And it was under her advisement I added some changes to my will,” Uther says.

“We’re back?” Arthur asks, a smile threatening to tug at his lips, but he holds himself back. His father wouldn’t appreciate it much, even if Arthur wants to laugh.

“Of course not,” Uther says quickly, with a frown, his voice cold. “You’ve been removed from it entirely.”

“You… removed us from your will?”

“As Catrina pointed out to me, if you inherited any money, you’d have enough to buy over enough shares to hold a position of power over Camelot. This isn’t personal, Arthur,” he adds, with a look that says clearly enough that he shouldn’t even have to explain himself, “You don’t need it to survive, you’re doing well enough with your own establishment.”

“So now Catrina gets everything?”

“I don’t have any other next of kin,” Uther explains, turning his eyes to Arthur, his tone reasonable.

“I see,” Arthur says, his heart hammering. This, this is clearly too much for Uther to be acting by himself. This isn’t business anymore, it’s private, and too drastic for his father, even if he says it’s not. And who knows, exactly, why Catrina wanted to be his sole heir? What can her next step be after this? “Is this in effect already?”

“I’m signing my new will after six, when my lawyers come in,” his father lets him know. “You will explain it properly to your sister, won’t you? She won’t understand this coming from me like you do. She’ll take it personally.”

“I see,” Arthur says again, trying not to give his feelings away. “I’ll let her know.”

“Good,” Uther says, sounding pleased. “Now that’s out of the way, let me know when you have a break in your schedule. We should have dinner sometime soon, the four of us.”

Arthur gets up, his hands closed tightly in fists, hidden from his father’s view. “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.”

“Only after four,” Uther says, turning to his computer again, “you’re dismissed.”

Arthur nods, even if his father doesn’t see it, and walks out of his office, mind reeling with what just happened. There’s something going on, for sure. There has to be.


	37. The Gathering Of The Clouds

“That does sound drastic, even for Uther,” Agravaine says, putting down his fork for a moment as he looks at Arthur and Morgana, “Mostly it sounds sudden, seeing as he’s perfectly healthy, as far as we know.”

Arthur glances at his sister, feeling a little smug. She’d had argued about joining them for lunch, claiming Agravaine wouldn’t be of any help, but here he is, cementing their ideas. It’s good to know they still have some family on their side, especially when they have so little family in the first place. Morgana shows her disagreement as politely as she can, sitting far too straight, chin held high, her gestures as she eats minimal, fast and cold. She doesn’t look back at her brother, her eyes on the steak she’s cutting on her plate.

“We thought so too,” Arthur says, “we’re worried about him.”

“It’s a good thing you came to me, then,” Agravaine says, “most people wouldn’t understand your concern, and assume you’re merely after your father’s fortune.”

“Of course not,” Arthur says, with another quick glance at his sister, “this isn’t about the money. Not for us.”

“Of course not,”  Agravaine agrees, his tone soothing, “but everything is going to Catrina now, you say?”

“That’s what father told me,” Arthur nods.

“Does she seem like the kind to push towards that?” Morgana asks Agravaine, her tone far too innocent.

“Of course not,” Agravaine, “I wouldn’t have supported their marriage if it were so. No, Catrina has no need for Uther’s money, she’s just as wealthy as he is. So one must wonder why he’s been so quick with the changes on his will. Usually, these issues take some time.”

“Everything regarding Catrina has been quick,” Morgana says, “that part isn’t so surprising anymore.”

“Isn’t it?” Agravaine counters, “Because it got me thinking. We are assuming that Uther is in his perfect health.”

There’s a sudden pause in the conversation. Arthur stares at his uncle, eyes widening, fork lowering fast to his plate. “You’re not suggesting—”

“That something is happening to him? It’s not impossible,” Agravaine gives a small nod in his direction. Morgana frowns slightly at him, as if she’s not very happy to hear he agrees with them, even if they didn’t share what they really think about what’s going on. Talking about magic wouldn’t go very well. “Maybe he’s ill. Maybe, and I dread to suggest this, he’s terminally ill, even.”

Arthur feels his breath catch in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. “What? He can’t be—”

“That makes no sense,” Morgana cuts him off, “he was perfectly healthy last we saw him.”

“As far as you know,” Agravaine says, “how can you be sure? Have you been following his doctor appointments? Their diagnostics? There are terminal diseases that give little signs. You’d only be aware if he let you know. I’m terribly sorry to be suggesting this,” he reaches forward with a hand, placing it on Arthur’s wrist, “but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Why he’s in such a hurry to marry and change his will. To do it while he can.”

“You think he’s dying?” Arthur asks quickly, “Of what?”

“I do not know, Arthur,” Agravaine squeezes his wrist, “and I’m not saying he is. It merely sounds like the most plausible reason for his actions. I hope that’s not it, of course.”

“Of course,” Morgana repeats, her tone cold.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Agravaine says, “it was needless to worry you two like that. It’s probably nothing. Uther does like to plan ahead, as we know. It might simply be that. It’s probably that, so no need to fret about what I said.”

Arthur looks at his sister, feeling uneasy, but she merely glances at him, apparently more busy keeping a hard eye on Agravaine.

“How about we change the subject for now to something lighter,” Agravaine says, “Morgana, are there any suitors?”

“Always,” Morgana replies, her tone still defensive.

“A beautiful woman like you, it’s no wonder,” Agravaine replies, “any of them decent?”

“None I’m interested in,” Morgana replies, with a clear lack of interest in the topic.

“And you, Arthur? Still with that boy?” Agravaine turns to him

“Merlin, yes,” Arthur says, his mind still stuck on Agravaine’s theory,  “he’s performing tonight at the club.”

“How wonderful,” Agravaine says, with a small smile, “If my schedule clears, I might pop by to give it a look.”

They don’t touch the subject of Uther again during the meal, but Arthur can’t stop thinking about it. What sort of illness could be fatal without giving any signs? Or how many signs could Uther hide? He’s quiet when they leave the restaurant, and Agravaine clasps him on the shoulder, squeezing it lightly as they’re about to part ways.

“Be strong, my boy,” Agravaine says, “and remember you can always count on me.”

“Thank you, uncle,” Arthur replies.

Agravaine gives them a small, closed mouth smile, and a nod, before he turns and leaves towards his car, his step faster under the rain. Morgana waits until his uncle is inside the car to pull her umbrella out of her purse, opening it and hooking a hand on Arthur’s arm. They move out of the cover of the restaurant, walking towards Arthur’s car, listening to the heavy rain hitting the umbrella.

“Do you regret coming?” Arthur asks.

“No, this was very enlightening,” Morgana replies.

Arthur turns his head to look at her, “You think he’s right? That father is sick?”

“DId he seem sick to you?” Morgana raises an eyebrow, “Of course not. I think Agravaine is in on it.”

Arthur pulls his arm off her sister’s hold. “You’re not serious.”

“Arthur, we know this is not how Uther acts,” Morgana says, her tone still sharp, but softening a little in an attempt to ease him, “Agravaine is trying to normalize his behaviour. And he brought them together.”

"And I welcomed her to the family, doesn't mean I’m in on it," Arthur replies, "Agravaine is family. I know you don't like him much, but he's my uncle. Why would he do this intentionally?"

"If he's working with her, they could have agreed to some share of the winnings--"

"I don't want to hear anything else on this," Arthur replies briskly, stepping away from her. It leaves him out of the security of the umbrella, and rain falls hard on his head, his shoulders. He ignores it, even if it’s cold. "He's family."

"You're being obtuse," Morgana says, exasperated, but she moves closer anyway, shielding him from the rain again. "I won't bring it up, if it makes you feel better, but only until I'm proven right."

Arthur nods, and lets her grab his arm to pull him against her side, warming them both slightly. They resume walking, in silence again. When they stop by the driver’s door, Morgana pats his cheek lightly.

“Stop thinking about what he said, brother. We’ll work things out.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t answer, running a hand through his damp hair. Even acknowledging what Morgana just said, his mind is busy with everything he’s heard during lunch. Is Morgana right? Is Agravaine? Neither? He hopes dearly for the third option, but he knows it's most likely not that simple.

 

It’s a pity Agravaine doesn’t make it to Merlin’s show that night, because Merlin is putting on a good performance, even if Arthur doesn’t pay much attention to it. He’s busy with research, of course, but the main reason is that he feels ashamed for enjoying the way Merlin captures the audience, for liking him in that sharp black suit, the white gloves, the magic he performs so freely, things he enjoyed that  brought upon his father’s disappointment and drastic changes. And of course, then comes the guilt, for feeling ashamed in the first place. It’s a self feeding loop he needs to work his way out of.

He’s finished reading a paragraph on the signs of magic when laughter spreads through the audience, and he looks up to see Merlin regaining his balance, throwing an easy smile at them. His shoulders drop a bit, his gaze fond as Merlin rubs the back of his head, the other hand twisting out. Loud gasps come from the audience as a blue light shines in Merlin’s hand. It looks similar to the one Merlin had used to prove his magic to him, and Arthur smiles a little at it. He wasn’t exactly happy when it had happened, but it makes him warm now when he remembers the trust Merlin put in him.

“Arthur,” Morgana says, from his side, and he turns to look at her, “I think I got it.”

Arthur leans closer to look at the book she has open, and reads out loud. “The Spell of Revelation.”

“If the target has magic, when the spell is used their eyes will shine,” Morgana explains.

“Like Merlin’s do?”

Morgana nods, “Whoever has magic, when they use it, it always shine differently.”

Arthur looks up from the book to her, suddenly interested. “Do yours?”

“I suppose,” Morgana replies, smoothing the page of the book, “but I’m usually asleep, so I can only assume.”

“Don’t suppose you keep a mirror by your bedside, just in case,” Arthur says.

“I’m not as vain as you, brother,” Morgana.

“Very funny,” Arthur replies, his upper lip pulling up as he makes a face at her, Morgana replies with a smirk, head shaking slightly as she raises her chin. “Moving on,” he says, amused, “the spell, you can do it?”

“I doubt it,” Morgana says, “premonitions are more of my thing. But Merlin will be able to do it, I’m sure.”

“Alright. Then we’ll show it to him after the show,” Arthur closes his own book, glad to finally be done with research, and gets up, hands on the table, “Father wanted to dine with us. I’m going to call him to make sure it happens soon.”

 

The problem turns out being able to get a moment with no one around to witness the spell, they discover two days later, during dinner with Uther and Catrina. Perhaps it was meant to make sure Arthur and Morgana didn’t cause a scene, seeing they weren’t exactly happy with their father’s choices, but Uther making a dinner reservation at a restaurant put a dent in their plans. It wouldn’t exactly do to have everyone present aware that magic was a thing, and you could hardly explain it as a trick of the light when two people sitting reasonably far apart from each other got their eyes to shine gold.

“Let me get this straight,” Morgana says, her voice hard, “you disinherited us for taking our business in a direction that goes against your tradition, but this is suddenly alright?”

“You’ve always claimed I should give them a chance, Morgana, why is this upsetting you now?” Uther asks, his tone low and raised slightly at the end of the sentence, attempting to sound reasonable.

“Father,” Arthur tries to join in, “you hate Stomp. You’ve told us several times that hitting the floor with a broom is an odd form of cleaning, not performing.”

“Well,” Catrina says coyly, her hand pressing lightly on her husband’s chest, “I’ve made some convincing arguments.”

She and Uther share a look, both cracking smiles, giggling even. Uther Pendragon, his father, actually laughs bashfully, a slight blush spreading on his cheeks. Arthur looks away, to see Merlin making a disgruntled face. He shares the feeling.

“But when we do things differently you throw us away,” Morgana replies.

“Stomp is a world acknowledged performance,” Uther says, turning to glance down at the three of them, “Arthur placing his boyfriend on stage for parlour tricks hardly compares.”

“Merlin got the job on his own merit,” Arthur replies right away, his voice hardening, “I’d only met him after he was hired, a gig he got on talent alone.” He keeps his eyes on his father, unable to look at either Merlin or Morgana at the moment. “His performances are a form of art.”

“Now, Arthur,” Uther says, his tone turning a little condescending, “you’re clearly enamoured with the boy, for reasons that elude me, you cannot say your choice was impartial when you saw him.”

Arthur feels his cheeks warming up, because that was true regarding the first time he saw Merlin, but not  _ Dragoon _ , “He was in disguise,” he says, but it sounds weak, and implausible. 

Dinner doesn’t exactly go smoothly. Morgana and Uther argue the whole time, with Arthur trying to ease things between them. Merlin is unusually quiet, but it’s understandable. Uther and Catrina don’t exactly hide their dislike for him, and as Merlin goes quieter, Arthur starts joining his sister’s side, voice getting heavier with anger with each snide comment about Merlin or Excalibur.

When they leave the restaurant Arthur’s hands are shaking. He can be aggressive, he knows this, and he’s always worked it out in several ways, but he’s never been this distressed with his own father. He knows that it’s not all him, but there’s little Uther said that Arthur knows he doesn’t actually mean, especially regarding Arthur’s choices. 

He still lets his father pull him aside, even if it’s the last thing he wants to do at the moment. He turns to look at him, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his temper in check.

"Arthur," Uther says, his voice loaded with disappointment. "You've told me you understood what happened isn't personal."

"I know that," Arthur says, his eyes downwards.

"That's not what you've shown tonight."

"Tonight was personal, Father," Arthur replies, "You kept insulting me, my sister, my boyfriend, and my business."

"You used to value my knowledge, my input."

"And you used to value mine," Arthur says, finally meeting his eye, "There's a difference between criticism and insult, and today you've crossed it. Do you really think it's alright to put down your children like that?"

There's an odd look on Uther's face, eyes widening slightly, a sudden shame crossing his face, before it turns back to it's usual look. "Perhaps you are right, son. I should be more careful with my words."

"Thank you," Arthur says, a little surprised. It doesn't undo what's been said, and it wasn't an apology, but from his father, it rarely is.

"Perhaps we'll all do better next time," Uther replies, clasping a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Goodbye, Arthur."

"We'll talk soon, father," Arthur says. When he turn to the rest of the group, Catrina is walking fast away from them, towards Uther, an angry, uncomfortable look on her face. Realizing what probably happened, he rushes to Merlin and Morgana. "Did you do it?"

"It worked," Merlin says, shifting his weight almost in little jumps, working out some excess energy. "We did the spell, her eyes turned bright green."

Arthur frowns a bit. "Green? But your eyes are golden."

Merlin stops moving, his cheeks reddening a little. "Yeah, everyone's different, I guess."

"The problem is that she noticed it," Morgana says.

Arthur looks between them, frowning. "She saw you? Saw you do magic, Merlin?"

"No, I was careful!" Merlin defends himself, and then shrugs, "She felt the spell, though."

"At least she didn't hear it," Morgana says, "I could barely hear it, much less understand it. She won't be able to use it on us."

"So she knows we're onto her," Arthur brings them back to the matter. "This can't be good. Do we know how to stop her?"

"Not yet," Merlin says. "I don't know that many spells."

"You do magic all the time!" Arthur replies, "How can you not?"

Merlin shrugs, "I just... do things, mostly. It's like giving a little push, I don't know. Gaius says I'm powerful."

"Well, can you push her enchantment away?" Arthur asks.

Merlin frowns a bit, scratching the side of his head, "It's, erm, not really my area. That’s more like fire and moving things, mostly."

Arthur sighs, hand on his forehead, pressing a bit. "More research, then."

"At least we know it's not really him now," Morgana says.

"Mostly," Arthur says. "We better figure this out, then."

"I'll call Gaius," Merlin says, pulling out his phone, "let him know we're going back to the shop to pick up more books."

“We’ll gather at my place to research,” Arthur tells him, his hand moving up until his fingers are in his hair, “we should do this together.”

 

A loud scream startles Arthur out of sleep, making him sit up quickly.

"Whassit?" Merlin's head falls off Arthur's shoulder to the bed, and he sits up as well, scrubbing at his  eyes.

"Morgana," Arthur lets out, suddenly terrified, throwing off the blankets and getting out of bed as fast as he can, heart hammering in his ears as he runs from his bedroom, bumping into the wall in his hurry to reach the guest room. His shoulder burns, but he barely registers it, mind reeling with possibilities. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could they think they were safe? They should have protected the flat somehow, made themselves safe! Catrina has  _ powers _ , she would stop at nothing to get what she wants, and if she thinks Morgana is the one who used the spell... "Morgana!" he yells, opening the guest room door wide. He stops when he sees his sister, and Merlin stumbles into Arthur's back.

"Arthur!" Morgana lets out, her voice shaky. Her eyes are glowing, not as golden as Merlin's, more reddish, but that might have to do with how watery they are, the tears streaming down her face. She's sitting on the bed, sheets pooling in on her lap, her hand reaching out towards him and he rushes to his sister's side.

"Are you alright? What happened?" he asks, hands coming up to grab Morgana's shoulder, the other cupping the back of her head, dark hair gathering in his hands.

"I had a dream," she says shakily, “I.... I saw her.... saw.... him...."

Arthur places a knee on the bed to sit down on it, and pulls Morgana into his arms, holding her close. Her face presses against his bare shoulder, hands clutching at his back. He pets her head, like he used to do when they lived together and she had a bad dream. Merlin sits down beside them, a hand carefully landing on Morgana’s shoulder, his chest pressing slightly on Arthur’s arm, and Arthur can feel himself start to calm down, comforted by having them both safe and sound against him. It was just a dream.

“Tomorrow,” Morgana lets out, her voice still trembling, “she’s killing him tomorrow.”


	38. Old Friends

“Arthur, is everything alright?” Leon asks, his worry noticeable even over the phone. “I know things aren’t good with your family, and I  _ have _ been telling you to take a few days off for years, but you never really listened, did you? Now several days at once, with so little warning?”

Arthur rubs the side of his face, shoulders slumped in defeat at the thought of having to lie to his best friend, but this isn’t his secret to tell. And unfortunately he doesn’t really have the time to explain and make Leon believe magic is real in the first place, especially not when he has so little time to let him know that he and Morgana are skipping work again.

“We just need a few days off,” he says instead, “...and I’m missing this afternoon’s practice.”

“Arthur,” Leon says after a small pause, “are you sure everything’s fine? I could try to take the day off too, meet up with you. If you need me there, I just have to rearrange some schedules, we could work it out.”

“No, you know I’d trust no one else to be in charge of the club,” Arthur says, “and it’s just a couple of days off. I’d be fretting over the club if you weren’t there. But thank you, Leon.”

“Anytime, my friend,” Leon says, and then a sigh is heard over the phone. “Well, it seems like my boss doesn’t let me skip work for a couple of days while he’s off on vacation, and he even had the galls to call me right as I come in for work to let me know. As you can see, this inconsiderate boss just dropped a ton of work on me with little warning, so.....”

“He’s certainly not paying you to chat over the phone during business hours,” Arthur replies, a small smile tugging at his lips, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

He drops the phone on Gaius’ workbench, hand rubbing at his forehead for a moment before he returns to the book positioned in front of him. His smile is gone, as his eyes focus on the pages, trying to find a counter spell for mind control. Every second they have counts, and tension is high in the room. Morgana couldn’t tell when would Catrina make her move, so any moment could turn out to be too late for them to act.

A while later Gaius lifts his head slightly from the manual in his lap, a finger on the page, “I’ve found a section on love spells.”

“Love spells?” Morgana asks, “are those really a thing? I thought it was just mind control.”

“It still is,” Gaius says, eyes back on the page, “with the added intention of making the victim believe to be in love with the caster, and the obedience seemingly coming out of love. It can make the control subtler.”

“Magical roofies, great,” Arthur mutters, a hand coming up to rub at his stomach, an unsettling feeling growing there. Everyone said he seemed in love with Sophia, overly quickly, and he wonders if she did something while she had him under her control. He doesn’t remember anything about her, but it makes him feel violated, the feeling in his stomach turning cold. He wonders what could his father be going through. “Do you think that’s it?”

“I believe it fits what we’re seeing in him. However....” Gaius says, frowning a bit, one of his eyebrows still too high on his face, “it seems we have several spells, with different solutions.”

“Then we use them all,” Arthur says, “and if that doesn’t work, we’ll find more.”

“Some of the solutions make other enchantments work better,” Gaius says, eyebrow raising as he looks at the text, “some would make him bald.”

“I’d rather have him bald than dead,” Arthur says, “but we shouldn’t make the spell worse.” He pauses for a moment, “Merlin, see if you can do the spells that have no harmful consequences. We should try those first.”

“And if it doesn’t work, Catrina will know we’re onto her,” Morgana replies.

“Then what do you suggest we do? Hold out until we have every possible solution in hand? We don’t have that kind of time.”

“What if we try and alert her with the wrong spell, what if we held back for another half an hour so we could find the right solution?”

“What if what we have is enough, and that half an hour is what it takes for him to die?” Arthur asks back.

The tension gets thicker as the silence grows, everything still as Arthur and Morgana glare at each other. Merlin glances between them with some concern, mouth opening like he wants to intervene but hasn’t found the right words yet. Gaius seems undisturbed, and turns back to his manual, marking the page and turning it to continue his reading while they settle this.

The moment is interrupted by the sound of a bell ringing, alerting them someone came into the shop. Arthur looks away from his sister to Gaius. “I thought the shop was closed.”

“I still have a business to run,” Gaius says, getting up slowly, a hand on the back of his hair, “it will only take a moment.”

“Hum,” Merlin’s face twitches slightly, getting up, “actually, it’s not a client.”

“You called someone over?” Arthur asks, “Someone who can help?”

“I think he can,” Merlin says, and winces slightly, his voice raising a bit, “I’m coming, wait a second!” At Arthur’s confused look he explains, “He’s talking in my head,” his tone as if that sounded reasonable at all.

“He’s  _ what? _ ”

“It’s a thing he does with magic,” Merlin says, walking towards the door.

“Do you do that with Morgana?” he asks.

Merlin turns around to share a long look with Arthur’s sister. “No.” Then he turns and goes into the shop.

Arthur follows him, “No? That didn’t sound like a no,” he asks, thinking about it. How often do those two have a separate conversation without him when he’s right there? God, Morgana must mock him mercilessly. “That sounded—” he stops, as they reach the front of the shop, and he sees who’s there. “Kilgharrah?” 

The older man turns to look at them, holding a cigar in his hand, a lighter in the other. At Merlin’s frown, he puts them in the pockets of his long, brown trench coat. Must have been more mind talking, if Merlin isn’t pulling his leg about that. 

“Wait—” Arthur lets out as he realizes “you have—? You can do the… stuff?”

“Is that your subtle way of asking if I have magic, Arthur Pendragon?” Kilgharrah asks, eyebrows coming up on his face. “If so, the answer should be fairly obvious by now.”

“And.... Merlin?” Arthur turns to him, trying to understand what’s going on. Does everyone in his life have magic in secret?

“He knew I had magic somehow and asked for my hep. Hum, don’t tell Gaius,” Merlin says, “So now he owes me a favor.”

“When was this? What happened?”

“Before you knew the fool had magic,” Kilgharrah replies, “and do you really have the time for this, young Pendragon? Uther’s running out of time, and my business is not for you to privy on.”

“You know how to help us?” Arthur asks.

“Unfortunately, I do,” the old man says, a frown deepening the wrinkles on his face, “I have no love for Uther Pendragon, but I keep my word, and I do not like to be in someone’s dept. There is, in fact, a sure way to break any love spell, any mind control, but you won’t be able to do it.”

“What is it?” Arthur asks, trying not to feel hopeful, but he can’t help himself.

“Uther must witness a loved one die before his eyes,” Kilgharrah says. He doesn’t give them a moment to react, turning to Merlin with a “My debt to you is paid, young warlock, I hope this was worth it to you,” and, job done, he turns around, bell ringing as he opens the door and leaves.

“What— wait!”

Merlin chases after him, and a moment later Arthur’s with him on the street, turning around to try to catch a glimpse of Kilgharrah, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“..what  _ is _ he?” Arthur asks, giving himself a moment to not think about Kilgharrah’s solution, “And what did you do for him? How did you even meet?”

“At Excalibur, actually,” Merlin says, “he spoke in my head and asked me to help him about this egg that was trapped in— hmm,” he shifts a little uncomfortable after a glance at Arthur, “it’s, uh, a long story.”

“Does this sort of thing happen to you often?” Arthur asks, picturing already the trouble Merlin gets into in his own little magical adventures.

“More often than you’d think.”

They look out at the street, but there’s no sight of Kilgharrah, as if he’d pulled a Mary Poppins and simply flew away. By now, Arthur wouldn’t even be that surprised if he discovered that was what had happened.

“Can he be trusted about this? Is he right on how to break the spell?”

“He’s usually a lot more cryptic with his answers, and he does have the habit of vanishing before I can ask him to explain what he means, but he knows a lot about this stuff,” Merlin says, “Sorry.”

Arthur crosses his arms. “Then let’s go tell the others.”

The news is taken with silence at first, then Gaius sighs, closing the old manual in his hand and pulling off his half moon reading glasses. Morgana crosses her arms tightly, a hand coming up to her chin as she frowns, and her voice is harsh when she speaks, “We’re not going to die for him.”

“If it’s what it takes, I will,” Arthur says, his voice almost firm as he hides away his fear of that possibility. But if it has to be either him, his sister or his father, he knows what he’ll do.

“And you think Uther would want you to do that for him? You’ve heard of how he changed with your mother’s death, what do you think would happen if he lost one of us?”

“At least he’d be alive,” Arthur replies, not really wanting to think about it.

“But you wouldn’t!” Morgana snaps back, her voice trembling slightly, “And I’m not taking that chance!”

A quick glance around shows Gaius frowning, a conflicted look on his face, grief already marking his features. Merlin, when Arthur turns to him, is looking at him wide eyed, the scarf in his hand twisted by his tight grip on it, as if he was forced still as he pulled it off, and his mouth is open as if he’s about to protest, to plead to him. Arthur doesn’t want to die.

“Can’t we just use Agravaine?” Morgana suggests, her tone only slightly sarcastic, “I’m sure Uther would be devastated enough with the loss of his lover.”

“What if no one has to die?” Merlin asks, stepping closer to Arthur, “can’t we just make it look like dying?”

The three of them turn to Gaius, and Arthur tries not to feel hopeful until they see what he thinks of this. Gaius looks up to the veiling for a moment, his head shaking slightly, before turning to them again. “There are ways to do so with magic, but it’s never safe. It’s a risk to play with death, no matter how you do it.”

“Beats the odds of killing someone, doesn’t it?” Merlin asks, “No one has to die that way. It definitely sounds better to me.”

“I agree. Back to research, I take it?” Morgana asks.

Arthur finds spells for everything but pretending to die, it seems. How to bring statues to life, change copper into gold, bloom plants out of nothing, bring out storms, even how to tighten a belt, but nothing on what they need. He wonders, with so many spells available to them, why would Merlin and Gaius lead the lives they have, when it’s so simple for them to beat the system. But then again, Arthur can’t really picture Merlin blowing off magically made money on expensive life long vacations around the world when he can work with Gaius on helping people, and then go bother Arthur so he can complain about having to work at all.

It’s Morgana who finds something, hand stilling on the page and frowning down at the words as she reads them over, some time later. 

“What is it?” Arthur asks, as she’s about to turn that page to the next one.

Morgana doesn’t look too pleased with her discovery, and especially not with having to share it. “It’s a poison,” she says, “it doesn’t just mimic a death, it brings you close to it. And it needs an antidote given within three minutes, or it actually kills you.”

“Alright, so let’s get everything for that ready,” Arthur says, “then we’ll go see my father, I drink it, and when the spell is broken, you give me the antidote. What do we need?”

Gaius goes to Morgana’s side, to see the ingredients needed. Merlin hurries over with pen and paper to write everything down. Morgana is still frowning at Arthur.

“What if it takes longer than the three minutes?” she asks.

“That wouldn’t make sense,” Arthur replies, “it’d be useless if you couldn’t pull it off. It’s reasonably safe, I’m doing it.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Morgana says, “seems simple enough, and if it’s that safe, then there’s no need for you to do it for me, right?”

“No,” Arthur argues, getting up and going around the table towards her, “Morgana.”

“So it’s fine if you’re at risk, but not if I am?” Morgana replies, her voice trembling slightly, “I can’t have you die.”

Arthur places his hands on her elbows, pulling Morgana closer to him when he reaches her, “If something goes wrong, I’m useless,” he says. Both Morgana and Merlin turn their heads sharply at him,  but he continues before they can argue with him, “I don’t have your powers, I can’t do anything against her. She knows we’re up to something, Morgana, and I’m not the one able to stop her, or even hold her back. “

“We can’t do all at the same time, at the same place,” Morgana says, “we can stop her first, then go to father—”

“Or we split, so we take them by surprise,” Arthur says, “you and Merlin go to Catrina, since you’re the one who can do something with her. Gaius comes with me to give me the antidote in time. We do it all at once and solve this.”

“Catrina will be expecting us,” Morgana tries again, and she turns to Gaius, “can’t you go meet her with Arthur? She won’t be counting on it, we could use that.”

“I don’t have the power to stop her, my dear,” Gaius explains.

“Then Merlin can go,” Morgana insists.

“And she’ll know for a fact it’s him,” Arthur says, “she’s counting on one of you, and if only one shows up, she’ll know which one she has to deal with. If you both go, she’ll have to deal with the both of you. Besides, if you sent me to her, you’d solve things with Father only to discover I was now under her control,” he adds, “and I’ve done that once already, thanks, I’d rather take the poison.”

With that settling the issue, they spend the next half an hour gathering items from Gaius’s shop for the two potions, Merlin going off to Gaius’s contacts to get the ones missing. Arthur and Morgana listen to Gaius, looking up to the recipe as either one of them makes one of the potions to save time, waiting in between for Merlin to show up with what they need in silence. Morgana keeps looking at him, her face either frowning with worry or anger at him, and sometimes a mixture of them both, as if she can't quite decide how she feels about what he wants to do.

Not that it sounds real to him yet, what they're getting into. He's knows, in an abstract way, that he'd give his life for his father,  or his sister, without a second thought, but it doesn't feel like it's something that is actually happening, like reality could pull him into such a scenario, especially since it involves things like magic. And he knows it's real, and he's going to die, or feel like it, but it hasn't quite caught up with him yet, and he knows it. It means, at least, that for now he can be rational about it, which isn't a bad thing. He only hopes he doesn't start panicking when the moment comes.

“Call father’s assistant to find out where Catrina is,” Arthur tells his sister, as they wait for the poison to boil. They need to know where to be once everything is ready, and Arthur hopes Merlin comes back in less than an hour, so he can go meet his father for lunch. It’s going to be easier to poison himself if he’s around food and drinks rather than chugging down a poisonous liquid straight from the bottle.

Morgana nods, leaving his side and going to the front of the shop to make the call, leaving only him and Gaius in the room.

“Is this that risky?” Arthur asks.

Gaius pauses, hand stilling the knife he was using to cut down some plants for the antidote. “If the antidote is given too soon, Uther will still be trapped by the spell. If it’s too late… that’s something we should not risk.”

“I’ll signal you when I drink it,” Arthur says, “do you have a countdown watch?”

“Merlin has one on his phone,” Gaius says, “I’ll borrow it from him.”

“Be honest with me, Gaius,” Arthur asks, his eyes on the potion as it starts to bubble, bringing the heat down to a simmer, “will this work?”

Gaius is quiet for a moment, and returns to the chopping as he speaks, “If it doesn’t, my boy, we’ll give you the antidote and take Uther with us. We try again. It will be harder, with hiding from Catrina and stopping Uther from going to her, but we’ll have time to try something else.”

“We need to be prepared for that eventuality,” Arthur says, glancing sideways at Gaius to see him nod in agreement. He turns back to the potion, grabbing a small wooden spoon and stirring it slowly.

Morgana comes back in, phone in hand. “Arthur,” she calls him, and continues when he looks up at her, “Uther is having lunch with Catrina and Agravaine in forty minutes. I convinced his assistant to add us all to the reservation.”

“All we’re missing is Merlin’s ingredients, right?” Arthur asks, turning to see Gaius confirm it. “Alright. Then we get everything else ready and all we have to do is wait.”


	39. The Last Stage

Morgana pulls Arthur tightly against her, hers arms around his neck, and his face gets smushed against her hair. He slowly hugs her back, his touch gentler, and after a moment, pushes her slightly away. 

“I didn’t think you cared that much, Morgana,” Arthur says.

“For you? Of course not,” she replies, closing her mouth tightly to stop her bottom lip from trembling, “I just couldn’t bear to be Uther’s only heir, can you imagine the pressure? I can barely deal with his hovering as it is. So you better not die.”

Arthur rolls his eyes a bit too dramatically, but he rubs her arm softly, “Stop fussing so much, Morgana. Your dream didn’t end with me dying, did it?”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t happen, Arthur.”

“Thanks for that cheery thought, Morgana, it’s just what I needed before drinking poison.”

Morgana slaps his arm with her hand held firm. “Don’t die, you brute.”

“What she said,” Merlin says, closing the door of the car as he turns to them, a worried look on his face. Arthur stills, looking back at him.

“I’ll give you a moment,” Morgana sighs as she crosses her arms, and then goes off to join Gaius by the restaurant’s door.

“You can’t die,” Merlin blurts out, hands closed in fists as he steps closer to him, “you— you can’t do this again.”

“Merlin,” Arthur starts, his voice dropping a little, and he closes a hand over Merlin’s fist.

“Arthur,” Merlin starts again, his voice wavering slightly, “if you die, you dollophead, I swear—”

“You’re not going to get all emotional on me, are you, Merlin?” Arthur asks.

Merlin hesitates, his face twitching slightly and he frowns. “No?”

“Good.”

Merlin seems to have lost his pace with that, looking at Arthur in silence. Arthur turns his fingers to twine them with Merlin’s, his other hand going to Merlin’s shoulder, pulling him a bit closer before he moves that hand up. Merlin goes, his eyes fixed on Arthur’s, and he can’t seem to look away either. Arthur looks at him, eyes lingering a little on his lips, on his eyes, his dark hair, his ridiculous ears, and can’t takes his eyes off him for a second. He’s going to drink poison.

“Listen,” Arthur grips the back of Merlin’s neck, “there’s something I want to say—”

“Look, you’re not going to say goodbye—” Merlin interrupts, frowning as he moves closer.

“No, Merlin,” Arthur hesitates for a moment, wondering if this is the best time. But he can’t go in there and keep this to himself, not with a chance of everything failing. And it’s not even just himself who’s at risk, what could Catrina do with magic against Merlin or Morgana, while he’s too busy dying to help out? “I want to say something I’ve never said to you before—”

“It can wait until after this,” Merlin says firmly.

“I love you.”

Merlin just looks at him, lips parted, opening a little further to speak, but no sound comes out. His eyes stay on Arthur’s, a little wider, and he doesn’t say anything. Arthur smiles a bit, teeth showing, and his hand moves upwards, fingers dragging in Merlin’s short hair. He feels lighter somehow, he hadn’t exactly expected for his admission to make him feel a little at peace. 

“Arthur,” Merlin says, his voice coming out slightly strained, “you prat.”

Arthur puffs out a laugh, his smile widening. “So quick witted.”

“I can’t believe— you’re such a toad faced clotpole,” Merlin lets out, and then his hands are on Arthur’s face, pulling him into a kiss. His mouth presses strongly against Arthur's, his breath coming hot and humid against him. Arthur gets a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, moving it upwards until he’s holding the side of Merlin’s neck with a firm grip, hand spread wide. Merlin lets out a small, shaky sound when Arthur slides his tongue across his lip, but as much as the sound urges him to press further into  the kiss, he starts pulling back, his lips lingering on Merlin’s, just enough for them to share one last breath before he pulls back enough to look at him.

“If you die, you cabbage head, I’m bringing you back just to make sure you regret it.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“Of course you are, you spoilt, royal arse,” Merlin lets out, his thumb stroking Arthur’s cheek slowly, as his voice turns gentle, tone lowering, “Arthur. You... you mean....”

“What did I say about getting all emotional on me, Merlin?” Arthur asks, eyebrows raising.

Merlin’s eyes widen, and he steps back a bit, his hands still on Arthur’s face, “You just said you love me!”

“And that reached the emotional quota for the day,” Arthur replies.

“You said it  _ after _ telling me not to be emotional!”

“So I should take it back, is that what you’re saying?”

“What? No!” Merlin exclaims, eyes wide, “You are such a prat!”

Arthur grins at him, feeling lighter already, his cheeks pressing against Merlin’s hands.

“So I can’t say anything, but you can?”

“If it’s mushy, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“And if I want to say it now?”

“You won’t.”

“Arthur—” Merlin is forced to stop as Arthur covers his mouth with a hand. Merlin frowns at him, his breath hot against his palm.

“Tomorrow,” Arthur repeats, keeping his eyes on Merlin’s. He waits a moment to make sure he understands, and then slowly pulls his hand back, dropping it quickly to Merlin’s shoulder when he doesn’t speak, and dries it against Merlin’s jacket.

“Fine, tomorrow, you bossy, unfair tosser,” Merlin says, not sounding very pleased.

“Good,” Arthur says again, and clasps him hard on the shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Then let’s go, we’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Merlin finally lets go of Arthur’s face, but one of his hands gets a hold of Arthur’s, and he doesn’t let go of it as they walk towards the restaurant to join the others, nor when they reach the table where Uther, Agravaine and Catrina are already sitting, Uther at the head, and Catrina and Agravaine at his right. Merlin ignores the judgemental looks from the three of them, and sits down next to Arthur, their hands still linked between them. 

On Arthur’s right, and Uther’s left, sits Gaius, and Morgana takes the free seat across the table, in front of Merlin and next to Agravaine, much to her displeasure.

“I’m very glad you could join us,” Uther says, breaking the tense silence. 

“Yes,” Catrina says, her smile far too sweet, “it’s so good to see you all here together today. Family and... friends,” she adds, with a  suspicious glance at Gaius.

“Gaius is an old family friend, Catrina,” Agravaine explains, and turns to the three on the other side of the table, “I was just talking to them about you, Arthur, Morgana,  and all of your hard work.”

Arthur smiles at him, a bit relieved to hear his uncle’s support. With him there, even if he doesn’t understand what’s happening, it’s one more person on their side, making them five against Catrina, once he realizes she’s not who he thinks she is. Seeing as everyone but him and Uther know what’s coming today, it shouldn’t take long.

A waiter arrives with the entrees, and a wine of Uther’s choosing. Both Gaius and Merlin turn down the drink, but Arthur asks for a small glass, leaning slightly out of the way for the waiter to pour it. His hands go down to his lap, hidden by the table and its cloth as he pulls out the vial out of his pocket. Merlin flinches at the small popping sound that opening it with his thumb makes, his hand coming up to clutch at Arthur’s knee. Arthur gives himself a moment, one deep breath, before he carefully reaches for his glass, grabbing it from the top so he can discreetly pour the poison in it as he brings the glass closer to himself.

“It’s a pity you’re so set against me,” Catrina says, to fill the silence, looking around the table, seemingly upset, “Everything could have been so much simpler.”

Arthur looks down at the glass in his hand, and takes a long sip before he can second guess himself. He turns to Catrina, showing none of his terror. “This ends today,” he says, and drinks again. It’s not exactly a comforting thought that he can’t taste the poison. Merlin’s grip on his leg intensifies, as if his hold on him is enough to keep him from reacting to the poison.

“You think you can take him away from me? From my control?” Catrina asks, sounding amused, and she turns to Uther with a sweet smile, cupping his cheek. “You’re mine, aren’t you, my darling?”

Uther smiles back, leaning into the touch, and his hand comes up to cover Catrina’s. “With all my heart,” he says, voice warm and deep, and Arthur feels something twist in his stomach. He’s not sure if it’s the poison.

“We’re stopping you,” Morgana says viciously, frowning at Catrina. “You evil witch.”

“Now, Morgana,” Agravaine speaks from her side, “is that the way you should speak to your step-mother? Show some respect.”

Arthur finishes his glass, his muscles tensing as he stops his hands from trembling. It won’t be long now. “You’ve got my uncle under your control too? We’ll set them both free.” They will. His uncle loves him, and Arthur’s seemingly death should break the spell for him too. It’s nothing to worry about, beside the fact he won’t help them for now, after all. His worry doesn’t last long, as he starts to feel something tugging at his heart, a hand coming up to his chest.

Catrina laughs, her face twisting into something dark as she does so, and turns to Agravaine. “Have you heard this? He thinks you’re enchanted too. Just as gullible as his father!”

Agravaine’s smile turns shaper, colder, “It is time I get the credit I am due.”

“I knew you were in on this,” Morgana hisses, her body tense, moments away from bolting up.

You can’t be,” Arthur lets out, his voice weak and hoarse, as with each breath it feels like he has less and less space in his lungs for air, “you’re family.” His hand comes up to grasp at the edge of the table, but he still slips slightly in his seat.

“Family?” his uncle spits out, expression filled with disgust, “To the man who cheated on my sister, who killed her with you?”

Arthur winces, curling a bit into himself as the tugging in his chest grows stronger, painful rather than annoying now. He can’t feel his heartbeat, his short breaths are getting caught at his throat, unable to fully leave his body. “No,” he lets out weakly, his head starting to swim as he turns it towards Uther, “Father....”

“My son,” Uther frowns as he looks away from Catrina to him, frowning in confusion. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I see,” Catrina says, her hand landing on Uther’s arm, holding it firmly, “you think this will really work? If so, it’d be very stupid of me to get Sophia on you when I did, wouldn’t it? I told the stupid girl to kill you then, how are you not helping me by dying now? Uther,” her voice is gentle now, “your son is making a fiss, it’s embarrassing. We should leave before he makes a scene.”

Arthur tries to get up, his mind too cloudy to realize it’s not a good idea, panicking at his lack of breath, a hand up to his throat, and at her words, hoping he’s not doing this for nothing. He stumbles down, sinking to his knees, his head hitting the edge of the table and his back then pressing on the chair behind him.

“Arthur!” his father’s voice rings out, the sound of a chair scraping back loud.

Arthur’s vision is turning black at the edges, everything else blurry. He can’t breathe, his fingers are turning so cold now. He only realizes he’s fallen further when his cheek hits the cold ground, a metallic taste filling his mouth. Mostly he feels the pain, sharper and harder on his chest. He can’t make himself move to curl further into it.

“No!” Catrina lets out, “Uther, darling, come now, there’s nothing we can do.... Let’s go home, shall we, my love?”

“Get him away!” Agravaine says sharply, his voice closer.

“My boy!” his father’s voice gets louder, closer, and there are hands on his shoulders, Arthur can feel his head being lifted, resting on something softer, “Arthur, Arthur...!”

Arthur isn’t sure if he closed his eyes or if his vision is gone, the sounds starting to fade too. He can’t tell if if it’s been over the time he had.

“No, my son, my son....!”

There are more hands on him, something wet on his face that he can barely feel. Even the pain has turned numb now. Have they given him the antidote? He doesn’t know, he can’t feel, he can’t tell. He can’t breathe.

“What are you...” his father’s voice comes and goes, “get away! Someone call....”

 

When he wakes up it’s abruptly, sitting up quickly, breathing deeply from his mouth, forcing him to start coughing right away. His head turns down as he does so, and once he manages to stop, he falls back on the bed, trying to get his breathing back under control. He’s in a hospital, again, he realizes, and there are people in the room with him.

“Arthur,” his father’s voice comes deep and slightly shaken, a hand resting on Arthur's arm. “My boy, my son.” His father leans down, pressing a kiss on his forehead. Arthur’s eyes are watery, but he’ll blame it on the coughing.

“Father,” his voice is slightly hoarse, “you’re back.”

“She will pay for what she’s done,” Uther says, his voice harsh.

Then there are hands on his other arm, and he turns in time to see Morgana and Merlin grabbing a hold of him, each touching him where they can, and Gaius smiling gently at the foot of his bed. He’s so glad they’re all okay. Morgana fixes his shirt, but Arthur keeps his eyes on Merlin’s huge smile, on his bright eyes filled with relief. 

“You are never doing this again, brother,” Morgana tells him, sitting down on the bed.

Uther chuckles lightly at it, “You say as if he poisoned himself on purpose, Morgana.”

There’s a tense moment before Merlin speaks, clearly trying to divert the attention, “He’s far too self-centered to do that.”

Uther sends him a look, frowning with disapproval, but Merlin keeps his eyes on Arthur’s, still smiling. “You always have to be the center of attention, don’t you? Can’t go out for lunch without drinking poison so people notice you.”

“I almost died, this is no way to treat your boyfriend,  _ Mer _ lin,” Arthur says, but he’s smiling back, making his face sting a bit.

Merlin cups his cheek carefully, leaning down as if he means to kiss him, but stops, a blush growing on his cheeks as he seems to remember that they’re not exactly alone. And especially that Uther is right there. “You seem alright,” he says, leaning back again.

“How are you, son?” Uther asks.

Arthur slowly sits up, using his elbows and hands to prop himself up against the headboard. His strength isn’t all there, coming and going while he moves, but he can breathe. His head hurts, and the inside of his cheek is tender, as if he cut it with his teeth, but that’s nothing compared to what he last remembers feeling before he woke up. “I’m fine.”

His father grips his shoulder, his whole posture sagging with relief. He looks older, lost, and Arthur wonders how much he knows. And how long it has been since he passed out. “Good,” Uther says, “good. The doctors said you would be, but I had to make sure.”

“Uther, we should go to the police now,” Gaius says, sending Arthur an apologetic look, “they’ve been waiting.”

“I’ll return later,” he says, but he seems reluctant to let go of Arthur. His hand slowly leaves Arthur’s shoulder. Uther looks at Morgana, then Merlin, then at Arthur again, and, giving them a nod, leaves the room with Gaius. He closes the door after them, and Merlin doesn’t waste a moment, coming up to sit on his knees, and touching his forehead lightly against Arthur’s, careful with his bruising. Arthur closes his eyes, and wishes they could stay like this for the rest of the day.

Morgana goes to the door, waiting in silence as she looks at it, giving them a moment. “Alright, he’s gone.” She comes back to the bed, sitting on it’s edge, body twisted to face them. Merlin turns to sit next to Arthur, pressed against his side, an arm going around Arthur’s waist. It’s good, and he manages to bring a hand up to Merlin’s head, fingers moving lightly in his hair.

“What happened? Last I remember is.... Something about Sophia?”

“It worked,” Merlin says, “it broke the spell.”

“Catrina tried to take him away. For all her talk about Sophia, you’d think she wasn’t bluffing.”

“She.... she got Sophia to kill me,” Arthur says, “it wasn’t unrelated after all.”

“But she was bluffing too,” Morgana says, “Uther had to see you die, and if Sophia had succeeded....”

“She’d have eliminated a sure way to break the spell,” Arthur nods a little, “and gotten rid of an heir.” 

“She didn’t use magic at the restaurant,” Merlin says, “too many people. But she was incredibly strong, fighting your father and the staff. And the police. She threw one of them into a wall!”

“The police?”

“Someone called emergency,” Morgana says, “and I may have slipped the flask of poison into her purse.”

Arthur looks at her, surprised. “You framed her.”

“It’s not really framing if she did try to get you killed, is it?” Morgana replies. She moves closer, shoving them both so she has room on the bed by Arthur’s other side, sitting against him as well. 

“What does father know?”

“He thinks he’s been hypnotized,” Morgana says, “it’s what he’s telling the police. He told me he remembers everything. So he heard her admit wanting to kill you and him.”

“And.... Agravaine?” Arthur asks, hesitant.

“He was with her,” Morgana grabs his wrist, squeezing it lightly, “I’m sorry.”

Arthur nods, feeling his chest constricting again. His uncle. He had hoped Agravaine had been under the spell too, even when he denied it, but apparently he spoke the truth at lunch. How had he decided to do this? For how long had he hated Arthur? Had he ever cared for him at all?

“They’re both with the police now,” Morgana says, “and Uther’s no longer enchanted.”

“You saved him,” Merlin says.

Arthur looks at him, then at Morgana, and shakes his head. “We did. I know neither of you wanted to do it this way but.... thank you.”

“We’re never doing that again.” Morgana says.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“Gaius got to you just in time,” Merlin says, “for a while we... we weren’t sure if it had worked.” he pauses, hand coming up to rub at his eye. “Arthur,” he says softly, his voice wavering a little.

Morgana gets out of the bed, going towards the door, sensing they need some time. “I have a few words to say to the police too.” She gives them a glance, her eyes fond, before she leaves the room, closing the door softly after her.

Merlin turns to him as soon as the door closes, a determined look on his face. “Arthur.”

“We talked about this, Merlin,” Arthur says, “nothing emotional until tomorrow.”

“No,” Merlin says, “that’s stupid, and you were stupid to say it!”

“Then you were stupid to listen,” Arthur replies.

“Exactly!” Merlin says, turning a bit to face him better. “Wait, no. This is about your stupid rule, that you made up. What if you had died?”

“You wouldn’t let me,” Arthur says.

Merlin looks like he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the trust Arthur puts in him. “I love you.”

Arthur looks at him, mouth slightly open. It wasn’t very unexpected, given everything, but his heart still hammers, and for a moment he can’t breathe. In a good way this time. He could hear this again, for a long, long time.

“Nothing surprising,” he says,unable to hold back a grin, “even if you constantly insult me.”

“You’re one to talk,” Merlin says, with a laugh, and Arthur has to press hard on the hand he has on the bed, to lean in and kiss him. Merlin grabs a hold of his shirt, kissing back, and Arthur feels everything fall into place.

He’s going to have to talk to the police, and there will be a whole trial, he hopes, regarding Catrina. He’s not physically fine at the moment, and who knows how his father is dealing, knowing his will was taken away for months. But everything is getting better, and he knows they’re going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more post to go! Next week comes the epilogue, my friends, and then a little extra (;


	40. The Choices of Arthur Pendragon

“What is this?” Arthur asks, grabbing the iPad Morgana forced into his hands. It’s a video, and he presses play, watching a young man, with curly brown hair waiting for something.

“This is a new magic show for Excalibur,” Morgana says, just as the young man in the video stands up, a glass of water in hand. With a flick of his other wrist, the water slides upwards out of the glass, floating as if it was in space, or made of jello. A bit hard to tell with the mediocre quality of the video. “We have an opening on Wednesday nights.”

“How did you come up with this?” Arthur asks, watching the video. The boy works with illusions, but in a way that is very different from Merlin’s. Merlin talks, he makes people laughs, he dazzles with his impossible feats. This kid, as the water touches his hand and then drips down to the floor, losing its form, makes it look natural, like a day to day thing. 

“He’s seen some of Merlin’s shows, and sent us an application,” Morgana says, “I think we should give him a chance. He’s good and seems serious and hardworking.”

Arthur almost smiles. Morgana’s usual course of action would be to set general auditions and warn the kid behind Arthur’s back, or just get him on stage without a warning at all, just as she did with Merlin. She’s grown, and so has he, Arthur realizes, because he hasn’t turned it down yet. He hands back the tablet to his sister. “Set an audition for him.”

“Nine am on Thursday morning,” Morgana replies right away, fingers moving fast on the tablet as she replies to the kid’s email.

“What’s his name?” Arthur asks, watching her type.

“Mordred,” she replies, turning to him once the email is sent. 

Another Arthurian name, of course. “He’s an adult, right?”

Morgana hits his arm. “Of course he is, you think I’d hire a child?”

“Just checking,” Arthur replies. “The kid looks barely out of high school, it has me wondering if you’ve developed some motherly instincts all of a sudden.”

Morgana hits his arm again, rather hard, and he has a feeling that’s going to bruise. Doesn’t mean he’ll stop making fun at her.

 

Uther gives a nod as he looks at Arthur. “The bruising is gone.”

Arthur touches his forehead lightly. “I barely feel it anymore,” he says, and holds back a smile. Merlin had insisted on smearing some awful smelling paste on his forehead to help it heal, and Arthur still isn’t sure if Merlin was joking or not when he said it had beetle dung in it. “How are you?”

“I’ve done.... things,” Uther says, a faraway look on his face, before he frowns at Arthur, “and said things, that I should not have. I’m sorry, my son.”

Arthur allows himself to sink a little on the couch. There are little signs of Catrina’s presence in Uther’s home now, just a lingering smell that hasn’t been aired out completely. “I know,” he says, “but you meant them.”

“I would never take this home and Camelot away from you and your sister—”

“But you don’t approve of Excalibur,” Arthur says. He doesn’t think he’s ever interrupted his father before. He looks him in the eye, shoulders straight, hands on his knees, because even after everything that had happened, some things are still instinctive in his father’s presence. Dying for him doesn’t change it, not that much. “You don’t like our practices and think little of our hard work, no matter how successful it is. You think we’re wasting time with it.”

“I think your talents would be better suited in Camelot,” Uther replies.

“And one day they will,” Arthur says, “but our places there have to be earned. I love Camelot with all my heart, Father, and I’d be proud to be a part of it, but when we do join it, when we contribute, it will be for it to grow. Different leaderships mean different views, and you cannot expect us to be who you are.”

“Camelot has a legacy,” Uther says, his voice hardening.

“And bringing new performances doesn’t mean stopping the old,” Arthur counter argues, “But Camelot is yours. And as long as you don’t want it to change, Morgana and I will do the work we want with the business we’ve started.”

“I’d never deny you that, Arthur,” Uther says, his voice heavy as if he’s trying to load it with his feelings. It’s rare, coming from his father, but then again, it’s rare for Arthur to really stand up to him like he’s doing now.

“No, you wouldn’t. Unless it was at Camelot.”

Uther’s silence confirms only what Arthur already knew, but at least he doesn’t look away from his son. His father never backs off.

“And about Merlin,” Arthur says, his heartbeat picking up. They never really spoke about Arthur’s sexuality, apart from when he came out to his father a few years back. Since then it’s something that Uther has been ignoring, and that Arthur went along with because it was easier. But that’s not really an option anymore. “I know you dislike him, and that I’m with him. But I love, him, Father. And he loves me. He makes me happy. You should respect that.” His tone was calm, but his hands curl into fists on his lap, trying to hide their shakiness. 

“It’s not easy,” Uther says, “that boy is nothing of what I wanted for you—”

“He’s what  _ I _ want,” Arthur says, his voice stronger, “And that’s what matters.”

Uther sighs, a hand coming up, two fingers rubbing on his forehead with a familiar gesture, one that Arthur has done time and time again without a thought. “I’ve had a lot of expectations for you, Arthur, it’s not that simple to let go them.”

You should care more about who I am than who you think I should be, Arthur thinks, but the words get stuck in his throat. His father isn't there yet, not really, and Arthur isn’t at a point where he can be that confrontational with his father yet either. “Then you should adapt them. For me and for Morgana. We’re following your footsteps, Father, but not the same path.”

Uther nods, silent again. It’s a step forward, but they’re going to have this conversation again, a few more times. Each time it will be a little easier to say what they really mean, and maybe one day they won’t need this conversation at all.

 

“One day, my friend,” Leon says, a hand moving through his own hair, sliding it backwards, wet with sweat, “you’re going to tell me exactly what happened.”

“I nearly died,” Arthur says, “and Catrina’s going to trial for it. And my father is divorcing her, naturally.” 

“I knew that much,” Leon replies, pulling his bag onto the bench. “Are you sure you don’t want some more days off? You really didn’t take advantage of those  _ after _ you were poisoned by your evil stepmother.”

“I’m fine. If I’m well enough to play football, then I’m fine enough for deskwork, Leon,” Arthur says. A bit ahead of them, in the field, Gwaine jumps on Percy’s back, holding on to his shoulders, laughing as Percy grips his legs and starts running. Elyan, Lance and Will are lying down on the grass chatting, up until Elyan and WIll get up, chasing after the other two. Lancelot sits up, laughing, and jogs towards them once Elyan turned the piggy back ride into a pile on the floor. These days they spend as much time goofing off as they do actually playing football. “Besides, last time I skipped work I had to hear a lot from someone about the sudden overload....”

“I realized I rather liked being the boss,” Leon says, leaning back a bit “you should take some longer vacation this time, so I have time to mutiny and rebrand the place. The place needs more blues, and I’m thinking of changing the name of the club to ‘Leon’.”

Arthur holds back a chuckle, smiling a bit, “So kind of you to warn about backstabbing me.”

“You’re welcome,” Leon says, patting his shoulder. “And speaking of backstabbing, I have something to show you.” He reaches for his bag, pulling out his cellphone from it. “I found a local group who swordfights twice a month,” he says, unlocking the phone and opening up the Facebook page to show Arthur, “they have materials and a place, and are looking for new members. We should give it a try.”

Arthur looks at the screen, leaning closer to go to the Facebook album, scrolling down. “When is the next meeting?”

“This weekend.”

Arthur looks at him, an excited grin matching his own on Leon’s face. “Let’s do it.”

He misses sparring often, gripping the sword in his hand, and fighting adversaries who aren’t as familiar as Leon. They know each other’s style too well to be a challenge these days, and joining a group is a start. Arthur can see it go from a group to teaching again. Maybe to even join tournaments like he used to, making Leon trip on his ridiculously long cape. He can picture it, the old assurance and excitement before going to the field, and maybe even have Merlin there, handing him back his red scarf so it can be tied to his arm again, like Merlin did that first time in this very football field. For luck, Arthur would demand, and Merlin would grumble, but do it anyway, and he’d smile wide, eyes barely visible with the size of it. It’s something nice to look forward to.

 

“I’m looking forward to whatever’s next in your journey, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur looks up from his laptop, to see Kilgharrah standing in the doorway to his office. Arthur has tried to speak to him ever since he found out he had magic, and the older man would not even accept a thank you, much less answer any of Arthur’s many questions. Merlin had been right about him, he’s cryptic, and does not like to share.

“I’ve come to warn you that I’m leaving.”

“What?” Arthur asks, surprised.

“I’ve been watching over you for longer than you’d believe, but I am no longer needed here. You rarely ask for my advice, and you have grown.” Kilgharrah pauses, and then adds, “You have Merlin at your side, as it should be. It’s time I go enjoy my retirement in some place warm.”

“Will you finally tell me how you knew what was going on? And with him?”

Kilgharrah laughs, head thrown back. His laughter is loud, slightly hoarse just as his voice is, and almost seems to boom, “I did not know. I’ve had the fortune of not interacting with your father for years, and I’d rather keep it that way.”

“Thank you for the help,” Arthur says. “We couldn’t have saved him without you.”

Kilgharrah shakes his head, and turns back to the door. “I will see you again, Arthur, and perhaps we’ll catch up then. Maybe I’ll allow a few questions.” Kilgharrah leaves, and as crazy and enigmatic as he sounds, Arthur believes in him. They will meet again.

 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Merlin asks all of a sudden, turning his head to look at him.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks. They’re curled up on Merlin’s still ugly couch, Merlin pressed up against his side, legs almost in Arthur’s lap, and on Merlin’s rests Aithusa, her small bunny nose moving up and down fast as she breathes. It’s not cute. Arthur had finally relented, and they’re watching the first Harry Potter film, which, thank god, is now left in the background with this new conversation.

“That some people are destined to be together,” Merlin says, “they’re fated to meet. That against all odds, they will find each other because they’re meant to be.” His eyes are full of intent as he looks at Arthur.

“Do you believe in that, Merlin?” 

Merlin nods, without hesitation. “Yeah. You don’t?”

“I don’t,” Arthur says, not missing how Merlin pulls back a little from his side. “I think— I think the idea of soulmates is nice, but that’s it. Some people,” he gives Merlin a look, “find romantic the idea of people meant to be together, that the universe worked so they could be.” He pauses, eyes on his knees for a moment as he tries to find the words he needs to express his point, before he looks at Merlin again, “I’d rather put my faith in people. I think it’s more meaningful when you make the choice to love someone, rather than leave that option to fate.”

Merlin looks at him, a smile growing on his face, eyes bright and warm, as if Arthur’s just proven himself to be a wonder. It’s a look that always makes him want to be better, to be worthy of such a thing. Arthur touches his cheek lightly, and pulls Merlin back to his side, who slumps against him, nuzzling his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want a clotpole like you for a soulmate anyway,” Merlin speaks against his shoulder, and Arthur swats at the top his head.

“No one made you be with me, Merlin,” Arthur points out, his mouth pulling into a smile, “that was all you.”

“Yeah, why do you think I believe in soulmates? This was out of my hands, or I’d go with someone who doesn’t snore. Or who compliments me. Or isn’t a prat.”

“Why do I put up with you again, Merlin?” Arthur asks, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Because you love me?” Merlin replies, grinning at him, “And you chose it, so it’s all on you. Can’t blame me for that one.”

Merlin’s right. He couldn’t help it, but loving Merlin was a choice he made, conscious of it every time he took a step towards it. Circumstances and attraction only go so far without decisions, and every conversation he started with Merlin, every time they met, each day he didn’t push Merlin away was a choice he made. If it weren’t for their choices, the incident about Dragoon could have been the breaking point for them, or it could not have happened at all, and where would they be now? Not on the ugly couch, not peaceful for once, maybe not trusting each other as they do.

“You’re wrong,” Arthur says instead, “I blame you entirely. It was never much of a choice with you, was it? You just showed up, never left, and I got used to it.”

Merlin shrugs, “You chose to let me stay.”

“A choice I rethink every day,” Arthur replies.

“Yeah,” Merlin grins at him, “but at least on that you keep making the right choice.”

Arthur agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this story is done!   
> Thank you so much for all of you who followed this up to the end, you have suffered with me through this and I really appreciate it!   
> Thanks to violentincest for beta'ing the fic, even when I was really over the deadline!! You're a lifesaver.  
> And to Sally, who's been reading my terrible, terrible fics since we were 15 (let's pray none one remembers my ff.net username), sliding sheets of paper across an entire classroom to demand more, and who kept urging me to write this! This fic wold not be finished otherwise, trust me.
> 
> ALRIGHT, time to stop being an emotional wreck over this finally being over, it's not like I could even take an actual break before starting the next story for these two, could I? No, and the research is killing me!!   
> Later this week: Magazine articles/designs I made a while ago for the fic!  
> And maybe, if you're interested, I could add as a bonus the smut scene I had to cut out because I couldn't place it where I wanted it in the story (but, trust me, is hilarious and corny, what else could you possibly want??), and that I like a little too much to just delete the file its in.
> 
> Honestly, guys, thank you so much for reading this all the way to the end! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I did! If you want to cry about this with me, feel free to comment here or contact me through tumblr at [lordvoldemortsnipple](http://lordvoldemortsnipple.tumblr.com).


	41. BONUS: Magazines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the first bonus content: the magazine spreads I made and posted on [tumblr](http://lordvoldemortsnipple.tumblr.com/post/155450803414) a while ago  
> 

[First page: a picture of Uther in a suit, with the captions 'The Reign over the Performing Arts' and a quote from the man "I'm preserving our cultural legacy"]  
[Second page: Title: CAMELOT, Uther Pendragon's domain. Text:

Uther Pendragon is the founder of Camelot Theater, and he’s worked on it for as long as he was finished with his studies, but it wasn’t until 20 years ago that the theater had its boom. Nowadays, the theater is known for its incredible performances, famous for Uther’s handpicked talents and stars, both those who grace Camelot’s stage in unique performances or those who’ve claimed a permanent stay.  
A theater connected with tradition and quality, but it doesn’t mean Uther refuses to make bold decisions. Just last week, he tells us, he denied Cirque du Soleil’s request to use Camelot for a series of performances in London. “Camelot is a theater, not a circus,” Uther told us today, “If I have any say in the matter, no magicians or clowns will set foot on my stage. I demand quality and talent from my performers, and I only provide the very same to our costumers.”  
Bellow the text is a picture of the theater.]

[First page: Title: 'WIELDING EXCALIBUR', Text:  
Arthur and Morgana Pendragon always follwed Uther’s footsteps, from a childhood lived in his theater, Camelot, to their choices of work. After their studies, they’ve both joined their father’s business. Ruthless and keen as Uther, they’ve climbed their way from the bottom to the top all on their own. In a surprising move, much in the spirit of their father’s choices, the siblings have left Camelot’s ranks to start a business of their own: Excalibur.  
Picture of Excalibur's tables and the stage, with the caption "The round tables by the stage, fitting within Excalibur club", more text:  
“Camelot is our home,” Arthur tells us, “and we’ll return to it with pride one day. Meanwhile my sister and I agree that we need our own space to grow, to learn. If we’re to be in charge of our father’s business one day, we need to know how to be in charge of a business first.”  
“Uther doesn’t like much that we’re the competition now,” Morgana laughs when asked of their father’s opinion, “but that’s nonsense, really! He can be so dramatic at times. This is a club with night time shows, not a theater. We’re looking forward to bring in acts and performances that don’t quite fit at Camelot.”  
Excalibur will be open for business every night of the week, with different performances starting at 8 pm.]

[Second page: Full sized picture of Arthur and Morgana walking down a road, both amused and wearing a suit and the other a dress, autumn leaves around them on the ground.  
Text: Uther Pendragon's heirs don't fall far from the tree, having just opened their own business.  
TItle: The Pendragon Siblings']

[An open brochure advertising Excalibur club

Front: A mostly black baucground with white text saying "Excalibur, live performances in club"  
The spread of the brochure is aprtly covered, so we can only see two of the three pages:

Middle page: A picture of a performance from Imagine Dragons, sue me. Text bellow it: "FIGHT DRAGONS""Live concert | Friday and Sundays at 11pm" "A rock folklore band that first premiered in this very club. Fight Dragons are innovatory and catchy, and their original songs will leave you wanting for more."

Right page: a badly photoshoped picture of Dragoon the Great into a magician suit and hat. Text bellow: "DRAGOON THE GREAT" "Magic show | Monday at 8pm" "A magical performance like you’ve never seen before! Stunning effects and incredible acts that will astonish you. After this, you’ll believe magic is real."]

[Magazine name: Gossip Now, it's very pink and round, terrible  
On the top of the page, there's a purple section with a picture of Amy and Jake from Brooklyn 99 with he caption "they kissed??" and beside it a picture of Hernando and Lito from Sense8 with the caption "are they gay?"

A picture of Catrina and Uther together, with the large, awfully yellow caption: "SURPRISE WEDDING!" and then right bellow, in white this time: "WHO IS CATRINA? HIS FAMILY BROKEN!"

On the bottom right corner is a round pop up with the image of Agravaine smiling and the caption "SECRET LOVER OF THE COUPLE!", the border is in that awful purple that clashes with everything else]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Friday I'll add the next (and final) bonus (:


	42. BONUS: Cut Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the last bonus part! I was supposed to post it yesterday, I know, but I was out of internet right until now.  
> This is a smut scene, but if you're not into that and want to still have some content, ctrl+f "magic it away" and you'll be set to go  
> For context, this was supposed to be placed somewhere between Uther discovering Merlin's show at Excalibur and Uther removing Arthur and Morgana from Camelot.  
> Enjoy!

Merlin is beautiful above him, drops of sweat sliding down his pale chest, the blush that creeps from the top of his ears to his shoulders, to his red, thick cock that bounces with him as he moves on Arthur’s lap, the roll of his hips slow and sensuous. His eyes are barely visible, fluttering shut, and his pupils, when he looks back at Arthur, are blown wide, showing nothing but hunger and love.

Arthur moves a hand down Merlin’s back, curling on his asscheeks and moving between them to press a thumb against the rim, where he’s so wonderfully taking Arthur in, stretched tightly around him. Merlin moans, slumping forward to rest his head on Arthur’s shoulder, panting hard against his neck as he tries to kiss it. Arthur presses his shoulders against the back of the couch so he buckle his hips up harder, loving the sounds he pulls out of Merlin as he does so, how tight Merlin feels around his cock. He cups Merlin’s jaw with his free hand, tilting his face so he can lick into his mouth.

“Arthur,” Merlin grins slowly, the smile lighting up his face as he nudges his nose on Arthur’s, “fuck, Arthur, listen…”

“Tell me,” Arthur says, the hand on his ass moving to grab his hip and pulling him down harder on his cock.

“Fuck—” Merlin tilts his head back for a moment, face filled with bliss, before he locks eyes with Arthur again, “Arthur I’m…” he pauses to slowly lick his own bottom lip, and Arthur is trapped staring at it, “I’m laptopping.”

“What?” Arthur asks, confused, looking up to his eyes again.

“I’m… topping from your lap…” Merlin tries to explain, “laptop. Get it?”

“Oh God,” Arthur lets out, not knowing if he wants to laugh or cry. “You’re fucking ridiculous, Merlin, is that really what you’re thinking about right now? Did you just come up with that?”

Merlin lets out a laugh, grinding down a bit faster, “Thought of it yesterday,” he says proudly, “wanted a chance to.... ah, shit— to try it out.”

“ _ Merlin _ ,” Arthur lets out, “that’s why you were so eager? I— oh, like that—” he pauses as Merlin rolls his hips. His eyes flutter shut, his grip on Merlin tightening and bucking deeper into him, “I swear to god, you test me everyday.”

“Come on,” Merlin is still grinning, shoulders shaking with laughter as he bounces on Arthur’s dick, “it was… super funny…”

Arthur points a finger to Merlin’s mouth, “Not another word from you until you come, you hear me? Nothing but my name. You just lost that privilege with that nonsense.”

Merlin nods quickly, mouth open wide as he pants.

“Good,” he cups his cheek again, thumb pressing against Merlin’s bottom lip, “laptop. Honestly,” he tries to tut out, but he’s smiling a bit, and it’s hard to stay mad when he feels the drag of his cock inside Merlin as he moves.

“Arthur…” Merlin’s voice shakes, and he looks happy, so happy with that stupid joke. 

“How am I in love with such an idiot.” Arthur presses his mouth on Merlin’s again.

Merlin’s moans come up mixed up with laughter as Arthur holds his hips and drives harder into him, and it has to be the most beautiful sound Arthur’s ever heard, prompting him to continue.

“And here I was thinking you were just eager for my cock,” he lets out, doing his best to stay coherent as he presses inside of Merlin, “turns out you just wanted to make a pun! Very flattering.”

Merlin’s still laughing when he comes all over Arthur’s chest, head thrown back and clutching to his arm with one hand, the other deep on Arthur’s hair, tugging it hard. It’s beautiful, and Arthur only looks away to press his face into Merlin’s neck, hiding a grin against it. Merlin’s tighter around his cock, he’s laughing against the top of his head, and Arthur is still grinning when he bucks into him one last time, orgasm hitting him pleasantly, surrounded by Merlin.

Merlin kisses the top of his head, chuckling, and lifts himself just enough so Arthur’s dick can slide out. Arthur relaxed his hold on him, taking off the condom and tying it up. Merlin sits down on his lap again, an arm going around his neck. Arthur places his free hand on Merlin’s thigh, caressing it lightly, and lifts the hand holding the condom.

“Magic it away, Merlin,” Arthur orders him, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rest it against the couch. “Clean us up and fetch us a blanket.”

“Bossy clotpole,” Merlin mutters, but he does as told. Arthur opens his eyes to see Merlin's turn golden as they get cleaned up, and the used condom slowly hovers its way off into the kitchen. "Satisfied?"

"I hope it reached the trash bin, Merlin," Arthur replies, closing his eyes again. His hand moves to the curve of Merlin's ass, fingers spread as he slides it up to his hip.

"Of course it did, you spoilt prat." Merlin pauses for a moment, and then Arthur feels the press of a kiss against his forehead. He only tries a little to hold back a smile. 

"Good. And the blanket?"

"Wouldn't you rather get in the bed?" Merlin asks, his fingers gentle on Arthur's hair.

"If I recall correctly," Arthur says, tilting his head into the touch, "you were the one who jumped on me as soon as we arrived, and then pushed me into a couch so you could make a pun.”

“You’re complaining?”

Arthur pretends to consider it, but he had in fact enjoyed the manhandling and the sex, and he smiles thinking about Merlin laughing during it. “I could do without the pun. Now, the blanket?”

“Bed?”

Arthur opens his eyes to look at him. “I can’t stay tonight.”

“What?” Merlin’s shoulders slump down, the hand on Arthur’s hair pausing.

Arthur could really do with the blanket, holding back a shiver as he starts to cool down, and he pulls Merlin closer against him. He’ll have to do. Merlin is still looking at him as he moves closer, an arm going to the back of the couch.

“I have to meet with my father first thing in the morning,” Arthur says, “and I don’t have any clothes here.”

Merlin sags against him with a sigh, his cheek resting on Arthur’s shoulder. “I wanted to make you watch Harry Potter.”

"Really?" Arthur asks, turning his head to look down at him. "That's for children."

"So are Barbie films, and you'd have watched one with me anyway."

"Those were special circumstances," Arthur replies. 

"Yeah," Merlin says, leaning in closer "I tried asking you out and you flirted with a robber instead."

"It—  _ what _ ?" Arthur turns his head to look at him properly. "You what?"

Merlin lifts his head to look at him. "Cedric? He robbed you, right?"

"Yeah, but you were going to ask me out?"

"Yeah," Merlin says, "Morgana was..."

"I think it was that night I thought the two of you were dating," Arthur says.

It's Merlin's turn to look at him wide eyed. "You really are dim, aren't you?"

"It was very early on and the two of you were all over each other," Arthur replies defensively, "and Leon thought so too!"

"Really? I had some faith in  _ him _ ..."

Arthur shuts him with a kiss, his lips sliding on Merlin's as he gets a hand on the back of his head to hold him in place. He nibbles lightly on his bottom lip, tugging it a bit, and Merlin swats at him. 

"Don't pee a brat," Merlin says, coming off wrong. He pulls back when Arthur lets go of his lip and repeats, "don't be a prat"

"If you really want me to," Arthur says, fingers touching lightly one of Merlin's earlobes. "I can watch one Harry Potter film. But only one."

"There's eight of them!"

"And I'm being incredibly generous as it is," Arthur replies. "You get to pick which one, and if it's good, then I'll consider another."

"Tonight?"

"I have time for one film."

Merlin frowns, trying to think it over. "The first is the obvious choice, but they're kids in it, and you can't watch the ones where they're older without the previous ones..."

Arthur shifts a bit, and manhandles Merlin until they're lying on the couch, as awkwardly as they end up being. Merlin might have stuffed the couch with magic, but he didn't fix everything about it. It's not made for two grown men to lie down on it, but Arthur's legs are falling asleep and he needs to change positions. Besides, now Merlin is draped over his chest, with the blanket on his back, so Arthur can't really complain about the cold anymore, even as uncomfortably his head is on the armrest.

"What if I explain the basic plot and put on the second movie?"

"Aren't they kids in that one too?" Arthur asks, his hand moving under the blanket on Merlin's lower back, "in fact, aren't they kids in all of them?"

"They're teens in the last films," Merlin says. "The second is funnier than the first, and I think you can watch it just fine without much context."

Arthur closes his eyes, and then nods. "Very well. Put it on, then."

Merlin puts his hands on Arthur's shoulders to sit up, and Arthur grabs his arm as he swings his legs out of the couch.

"What are you doing? Use your powers."

Merlin turns to him, tilting his head slightly. "It's a bit more complicated than making things fly around."

"You make fire show up out of nowhere," Arthur says, "I'm sure you can do that. Or are you so lazy you're actually going to move?"

"That made no sense!" Merlin replies, but he smiles a bt. "Alright, I'll try."

He frowns, eyes shining gold, and the dvd slot by the telly opens up. Apparently the tricky part is getting the dvd out of the shelf and open, because Merlin has it float into his hands. He opens the box manually, and then the disk flies into its slot. Merlin falls down against Arthur's chest, and looks at him. "Happy now?"

"I need to be kept warm, Merlin," Arthur says, "it wouldn't do to have you walk around without providing me that."

"It'd be easier to warm you up than to do all that."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Merlin says, "although things flying is the easiest bit." and just to prove his point, Merlin holds out a hand, eyes shining, and the remote control flies into his hold.

"No one likes a show off, Merlin," Arthur says.

Merlin laughs. "Then why are you paying me to do it at your club?"

"Alright," Arthur replies, "what no one actually likes is a smart ass."

Merlin grins, pressing his mouth on Arthur's. "Thank god for your small brain, then. You're very lovable."

Arthur feels flustered with the compliment, even if it came with an insult, but would it be Merlin otherwise? "Just put the damn film on, Merlin."

"Yes, sir," Merlin replies, resting his cheek on Arthur's chest, and the way he says it makes something fond and warm tug at him. It was, of course, incredibly disrespectful. Arthur just moves his arms around Merlin, holding him close while the film starts playing.

Arthur glances away from the screen as the Warner Bros logo comes up, eyes on Merlin again. “I can’t believe we’ve had sex just so you could make a pun.”

Merlin laughs, smile wide enough his eyes are pulled into half moons. Arthur grins, his palm pressing on Merlin’s lower back. He misses the beginning of the film, but that’s alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks!  
> If you got all the way down here, why not check my other Merthur fic?  
> [Get the Frog, Kiss the Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703792)  
> Merlin knew as soon as he was told, that gathering several eligible heirs from nearby kingdoms at Camelot all at once would be a bad idea, but did anyone listen?  
> Gaius said he was being paranoid, and Arthur said he was just jealous of all the attention. Gwen had looked at him with pity, as if she had an idea why the whole thing was actually bothering him, but didn’t say anything supporting either, so she didn’t count. Three female heirs with their parents, all trying to get a firm alliance with Camelot, and no one thought something would go wrong.  
> He hadn’t really counted on everyone in the castle suddenly being in love with Arthur, but honestly it’s not that surprising, is it?


End file.
